A Song Of Slavery and Sorrow
by Ares Peverell-Slytherin
Summary: What is Catelyn Stark decided to finally rid herself of Ned Stark's bastard? Having him kidnapped and sent to another continent seems like a great way! Wait? He's being sold into slavery? That wasn't meant to happen... NO SLASH
1. Prologue

**Winterfell**

**290 AC**

At seven years old Jon Snow was beginning to realise how deep the hatred Catelyn Stark had for him was. She refused to let her daughters anywhere near him and only let him and Robb play together because Lord Stark expected it. She had all the servants treat him with indifference or outright cruelty and hid the actions from her husband by blaming any bruises or such on a rough day in the yard.

Jon was never allowed anywhere near the family table and had to eat on his own, in the kitchens.

The boys had just begun to learn to fight under Ser Rodrik Cassel the master-at-arms at Winterfell. Both Robb and Jon were eager students and were already beginning to show signs of talent. Lord Stark had praised his sons and called them his little warriors. Catelyn had eased up slightly on the poor bastard because she had Brandon her newest babe to look after.

Jon enjoyed running around the ancient walls of his ancestral home even if he would never be counted as a real member of the family because of his mother. He had asked Eddard Stark who his mother was several times and received no answer, although this did not deter the young boy who was as stubborn as his ancestors.

So, the bastard of Winterfell lived a fairly normal life for the first seven years of his life playing happily and enjoying his childhood.

However, that all changed the day before he was to turn eight.

Sleeping alone in his room the darkness seemed to welcome him as he slept safely in its clutches.

As daylight started to appear and the sun rose from behind the hills three shadows crept into the servant quarters of the castle towards the young boy's room.

Slowly creeping in they grabbed the young child by his arms and after gagging his mouth dragged his terrified body away from the castle.

They tied him up properly binding all his limbs and delivered him to a cart waiting in the town below.

Next, to the cart, a lady waited, one with red hair and hate-filled stare.

"Bastard, I have decided to dispose of you while you are still young, and my children will not miss you. Of course, my family will think you simply ran away but that is for the best. I hope you die in the pits of whatever stink infested city you find yourself in!" Catelyn Stark declared with a sneer before spitting on the now eight-year-old boy and leaving.

Lady Stark was sending him away! Jon could hardly believe it! She was sending him as far away as possible to create her version of a happy family.

His young mind had trouble comprehending what was happening as the cart started trundling along the Kings road headed for White harbour and then Essos.

Days later when they arrived, he was unbound and then clasped in chains before being ushered onto a galley headed to Pentos one of the free cities. Why was he chained? The men who had taken him from Winterfell had been given a pouch of silver and handed him over.

Had they sold him into slavery?

Jon felt scared and confused as he saw all the half-naked men rowing and being whipped by an overseer. Was this his future? To live his life for another man. To be a slave who had no free will.

Jon could only cower in a corner of the cage he was in as the full implications of what had happened set in.

He would never see Winterfell or his family again, Robb would forget about him, his father would move on and Catelyn Stark would ensure he was forgotten for all time.

Then a new emotion reared its ugly head, anger burst forward squashing all other emotions in its all-consuming fury.

He attacked the cage in his haze shaking it as the other slaves tried to stop him.

Suddenly the door of the metal enclosure opened, and he was dragged out by his hair.

"Nobody wants a rabid slave boy! You need to learn a lesson or two about obedience." A gruff unfriendly voice spoke loudly.

Still blinded his anger Jon did not expect the first blow as it struck him across his back.

"Ten more lashes and we'll see if you still want to make noise." The same gruff voice spoke before another streak of pain erupted in the young boy's mind and a red welt began to form.

After five more Jon gave in, no longer able to bring himself to feel anger only resentment and acceptance.

When all ten were done he allowed himself to be thrown back into the cage like a doll limp from the pain.

Inside his mind, the anger burst through again, this time cold and condensed into a sharp blade to be wielded at his enemies' peril as opposed to the previous all-consuming flames that knew no foe nor friend.

This silent rage would stew and grow slowly seeping into the very fabric of Jon Snow's personality and character.

No longer would this once innocent boy smile or laugh, that was for children who were free. Slaves had no emotions except those that were allowed.

Jon Snow would be his own master and the only emotion he would allow himself would be his cold sharp anger and the determination and resolve to survive no matter what.

**Pentos slave market**

**291 AC**

Jon stood silently as the slave trader introduced each of them to their new master, a magistrate by the name of Illyrio Mopatis.

Slavery was banned in the free cities for all but the most powerful men such as one of the most powerful magisters of Pentos.

Illyrio looked over each new piece of property with disinterest until he felt his eyes rest on the youngest boy of the group.

"Boy, what is your name?" The fat man demanded.

"Jon, master." The small boy replied.

"A bastard then, always eager to prove themselves. You will become a steward. I assume you have been taught to read and write?" The Magister continued.

"Yes, master, the basics," Jon answered.

"You will be taught by the other stewards and be shown how to manage my estate." The man continued before dismissing the boy.

Jon was led to a comfortable room full of scribes deep inside the manse and left there.

"I am Lazarro Vynos, Head Steward of the Mopatis household, and you will be working under me. Your name is not important unless you are practising letters. You will be taught mathematics and will oversee livestock for now. If you do well, you will be promoted." He told the young boy.

The man dragged Jon to a room and left him with an old man.

The old man had been tasked with teaching Jon about economics and mathematics.

The two of them spent the rest of the day together as old man and boy bonded.

**Pentos **

**Magister Illyrio Mopatis Manse**

**293 AC**

At ten years old Jon was of just above average height with a large build for his age. He had spent the last two years being taught basic economics and all the necessary subjects to serve his master to the best of his abilities.

He was a favoured servant and steward of the master because of his quick wit and loyalty.

Jon held the respect of the household and was a well-known figure in the streets of Pentos now.

The Merchants of Pentos knew him by name as he watched Illyrio deal with trade deals all over the city.

Jon had learnt how the city effectively ran in his short time in it at least financially, politics still eluded him.

He had even met the prince once, just after the deflowering of the yearly maidens to offer his congratulations on another year survived.

The prince had taken a liking to him and tried to buy him, only to be turned down as Magister Illyrio had come to see Jon as a rather valuable asset.

Jon had been taught how to speak High Valyrian, Dothraki and the old tongue as well as Westerosi and bastard Valyrian.

Currently, he was preparing for a trip with Lazarro and the magister to the free city of Braavos where they would visit the Iron Bank to deposit the latest earnings of their master. Illyrio was only there as a formality for the bank, he would be greeting friends while his two stewards did all the work.

They set out with Jon riding at the front on a sleek back horse he had picked from the stables while Lazarro and his master travelled in palanquins guarded by unsullied.

The unsullied interested Jon a lot, most of his fascination came from the fact that he was very grateful not to be one.

They didn't show emotion at all and acted as if they were actual tools to be used and discarded.

The Unsullied were a favoured use of bodyguard because they could not be bribed and were incredible fighters.

Jon really wanted to continue learning to wield a sword, but he didn't know how to convince his master it was a good and profitable idea.

That idea would have to wait a while, just as his freedom and anger had been pushed back and hidden so too would the will to learn to fight.

Slaves or free bonds people as they were called were not allowed to have weapons without their master's permission and Illyrio was a slight bit too paranoid to let a slave have a sword who hadn't been conditioned.

The caravan of men stopped that night and settled down for the night.

Jon was walking around the camp when he noticed one of the less favoured stewards sneaking out of the camp. Suspicious Jon followed him as he dodged the Unsullied and disappeared into the adjacent woods.

Being as silent as possible he trod lightly on the brittle leaves and twigs finding cover behind trees.

The older man stopped next to a large rock and was joined by a second man and woman. They were conversing too quietly for Jon to hear but it was soon obvious that their intentions were not amicable as the woman handed the steward a container and Jon read the words Tears of Lys on her lips.

The trio planned to poison his master and kill him, normally Jon would be very pleased but he knew that the stewards would be blamed for his death and be put to death. Including him.

He waited patiently for the traitor to return to camp and for the other two conspirers to leave before sneaking back into his tent.

Jon began contemplating whether he should just run away, but he would just be hunted down and blamed for the crime, no he realised he had to save the Magister before he could be killed.

Sighing in resignation he walked over to the most lavish tent in the camp, where he saw the traitor walking in with a decanter of wine!

Jon began running as fast as his legs would carry him dodging under the Unsullied arms and spears and bursting through the tent flap. The inside of the tent was serene and peaceful as Illyrio and Lazarro reclined on some sofas eating grapes. The traitorous Steward was pouring the wine when he had burst in and almost dropped it in shock.

"Boy! What is the meaning of this!?" Lazarro roared, his face turning red as blood rushed to it.

Jon took a second to catch his breath before bowing to both men.

"Master you must not drink that wine! That steward has poisoned it with the Tears of Lys!" Jon advised urgently.

The Magister immediately dropped his cup and let it shatter on the floor, the sound of the smashed cup spurred the steward into action.

He drew a knife and dived at the fat slave master with the intent to kill when was knocked out of the way as Jon crashed into him.

Both boy and man rolled around on the floor fighting for the knife, with the older man winning using his superior weight.

However, in the time Jon had distracted the attacker Illyrio had called the Unsullied guards in and they proceeded to drag the two away from each other.

"What is going on here?" Illyrio asked, now noticeably more reserved and collected.

Before Jon could say anything, the attacker spoke,

"Bastard! You will die for being a slave owner! Pentos knows no master!"

He then started convulsing before going limp in the arms of the Unsullied.

"Boy, it appears I owe you my life. What would you have of me?" The fat slave owner asked Jon, obviously grateful for his life.

"Master, I would have weapons training so as to better serve you," Jon asked humbly, eager to continue the lessons he had begun at Winterfell.

"A bold wish bastard, but one I will grant as you have saved my life. You will represent me and my family and will be taught by the best teachers alive."

Illyrio Mopatis declared.

"Thank you, master!" Jon exclaimed happily.

He would earn his freedom through the sword and the spear.

**Winterfell**

**293 AC**

It had been two years since Lord Eddard Stark had lost his son. He was now certain that Jon had not run away and had instead been kidnapped. On the morning of his disappearance, Eddard had simply assumed he had gone wandering in the Wolfswood and had not been concerned. Then Jon had not turned up to any meals and was still missing from his room.

It was then that Ned Stark started worrying, and after another day he had sent out search parties as far as Tumbledown tower and Cerwyn.

Nobody had found anything even remotely helpful and so the search had quietened down as a depressed atmosphere settled over Winterfell. To his shame, Ned had been happy that at least his wife was now content, even if for a brief moment he considered Jon's disappearance to be her fault, although he quickly disagreed with that notion when he saw her comforting Robb.

It was only earlier that year that a new alley of the investigation had opened itself up to him when he caught Ser Jorah Mormont selling men into slavery.

Could Jon have been kidnapped while wandering and sold into slavery? Ned had interrogated the man thoroughly on whether he had taken or seen his son before the slippery slaver fled.

He had offered up a reward of ten thousand golden dragons for the return of his son, there had been many pretenders but none of them genuine.

Robb had nearly killed one of the more convincing impersonators when the boy had the gall to plead with him.

Ned had nearly let him do it.

Catelyn was elated that his bastard refused to turn up and continued to act as if he had never existed with Bran and Sansa while attempting to poison Robbs mind against Jon. She had succeeded with his daughter, but his sons love for his half-brother held strong and was only increased upon learning Jon had had no say in whether he left.

Ned had considered writing a letter to his friend King Robert and asking him to have the spider his spymaster search for Jon. However, that idea soured very quickly when Robert began sending assassins to hound the Targaryen children.

The Lord of Winterfell could only hope that his son was alive and well, preferably not a slave.

He would find the men responsible and he would have his revenge after all the Wolfs fury stops for no one.

**Pentos**

**297 AC**

Jon parried the first blade that came at him while swinging his second sword at his opponents' gut. He was met with a shield that blocked his second attack and a shove to force him away.

Next, the young bastard aimed for the head of his enemy while sweeping for his legs at the same time. He was again blocked this time by his opponent standing on his second blade causing him to lose his grip on it and both shield and sword brought up to protect against his other sword.

"A poor attempt at subterfuge Bastard!" cried Ser Laswell Peake.

While the man gloated Jon snuck closer and grabbing hold of the other man's shield pulled it down and headbutted him.

Out of all his teachers over the past four years, Ser Laswell was by far the most arrogant, which made it a lot easier to defeat him.

As Jon nursed his forehead, he looked down at the unconscious knight with a smile he had always been hard-headed, why not put it to good use.

He had learned how to use a spear from the unsullied instructors themselves after travelling to Astapor for a year and had survived reasonably unscathed except for a few whippings. The axe and polearm had been pretty simple once he had learnt the basics, but it was the sword with which he excelled. Trained from his tender young age perfection had been demanded of him by each and every one of his teachers, be it the masters of the water dance to increase his movement and agility, Dothraki screamers to increase his fear factor or good old Westerosi fighting techniques.

Jon had come to favour effective moves over pretty ones and knew that in a matter of life and death it didn't matter what you looked like so long as you survived.

The worst time of his life in the past four years had been when he had turned twelve and Magister Illyrio had sent him to serve the faceless men for a time. He had learnt about the poisons of Essos and beyond from them and had come to suspect they had been behind the attempt on his master's life. However, he refused to become no one and kept his name proudly never giving in, eventually, he was sent away when it became clear it would take too long to break him.

He had returned proud of himself and his loyalty, only for his master to shrug and send him away again this time to Braavos to learn the water dance from Syrio Florel and his academy of water dancers. He would never be as good as even the best of the man's students, but Jon had managed to incorporate the style into his own using the grace and perception taught to him.

The sword style he practised was a bastardized form of the northern Westeroes form designed for combat, not pretty performances.

He had fought to the death with two men already, both convicts from the dungeons of the city to see how his style was improving. The first time he nearly died. That had been four years ago. The second time he killed his opponent quickly, drawing on his simmering rage at Catelyn Stark and his slavery to empower himself even more.

His master had been very pleased by the fight.

At fourteen he stood at 5"10 well fed and on a healthy diet, spending most of his day training for the last few years had put some muscle on his sinewy arms, and he was very fast. He fought only for his master's enjoyment at the moment, but he knew that this would change with time.

He remained unbranded as a technically free bondsman, a slave in all but name but he the gods had favoured him when he was chosen by Illyrio as his life had been reasonably comfortable and people rarely judged him for his bastardry, not really caring as he was unknown in this part of the world.

He still had to do some of his steward duties as he was a good translator and organiser.

Which was why he was washed and in clean clothes making his way to greet their latest guests, the Targaryen children. Apparently, his master was a loyalist, even if he did not seem like it.

Standing in front of the gates to the manse he awaited their arrival, it did not take long. They arrived in palanquins which were quite the contrast to the scruffy clothes they both wore. Viserys the beggar king got down from his ride and stared with derision at his surroundings.

'Great! An entitled prat.' Thought Jon with fake happiness, making sure to keep his face neutral.

"King Viserys, Magister Illyrio is delighted to extend you his hospitality and hopes your stay will be long and peaceful," Jon said in his snobbiest voice.

"Of course, he is, it is an honour for him to feast myself and my sister. Take us to your master bonds person." The condescending voice of the beggar king declared.

As Viserys spoke his sister appeared herself, a beautiful girl of thirteen, Princess Daenerys Stormborn of House Targareyan.

"My lady please allow me to escort you and your brother to my master," Jon said with a bow before leading them through the gardens and into the main house.

"Master Illyrio, your honoured guests. I will take my leave." Jon introduced them.

"Of course! Welcome Viserys, Daenerys!" The man greeted both of them, and they began to talk as Jon took his leave.

He had his training to get back to and an arrogant knight to beat down.

Whatever they wanted to talk about was no business of his and it was of no interest to him unless his master told him it was.

He walked back to the training yard without a care in the world.

**Two weeks later...**

Jon was once again practising in the yard when Daenerys came out of his master's manse for the first time since she had arrived.

Ser Laswell Peak seemed to grow more skilled by the second as Daenerys watched them spar.

Perhaps this was why the Magister had chosen Ser Laswell as an instructor, in normal spars he was definitely skilled but when fighting with an audience he was superb.

"Do pretty girls make you fight better Ser?" Teased Jon as he attempted to sweep his opponent off his feet. Ser Laswell jumped out of the way of Jon's leg and smacked his leg with the flat of his blade.

"Oww!"

"Pretty ladies are everyone's weakness but mine! They are my strength!" Laswell cried in as he brought his shield to bear and charged forward.

'What a ridiculous thing to say!' The boy thought.

Knowing he could not match the older man's strength he bent his knees slightly into a crouch and launched himself at the shield using his own to meet it while simultaneously swinging his blunted sword in a long arc at the man's head.

Upon colliding, Jon was sent flying as he lost to the other man's superior momentum but managed to rattle Ser Laswell's helmet.

Slightly concussed the knight was sluggish in his movements for a few seconds before he recovered.

In those few seconds, Jon swept the man off his feet and using the pommel of his sword created a new dent in the back of his head.

"Oh Laswell, you never were the brightest of my tutors." The young warrior said with a sigh.

The exiled Princess was clapping her hands in delight, having never had the chance to witness people fighting before for entertainment.

"I am glad Ser Laswell and I were able to provide amusement for you Princess Daenerys." He said with a bow.

As if reminded by her title she stopped clapping and gave a simple nod in a failed attempt to seem regal.

"Indeed, I will be sure to tell Viserys of this! What fun it is to watch you fight." She said with a large smile.

Daenerys didn't seem to smile enough; he was glad to see her happy.

He watched after her as she left eyes glued to the back of her head.

"Keep dreaming green boy! She's a fucking princess and you're a slave! Never going to happen." Ser Laswell told him solemnly as he lifted himself off the floor.

Jon merely nodded and continued to watch her until the doors to the manse closed behind her,

"Ser Laswell, what do you know of the North?" Jon asked suddenly, feeling a longing for his home.

**Inside the manse**

**Three months later...**

"Do you know why I have invited Prince Viserys and his sister into my home, boy?" The magister asked.

They were sitting in the man's private sitting room where he often had meetings, he had that he wanted kept secret.

"No master. It is not my place to question your actions." Jon said hating every word. In truth, he couldn't give less of a fuck after all the two Targaryen's were irritating to the extreme, Viserys with his snobbiness and Daenerys with her constant personality crisis.

"I plan to place Viserys on the Iron Throne, my boy! And in doing so gain power and favour beyond anything ever achieved by cheese merchants before." Illyrio declared with a grand arm gesture that caused his double chin to wobble.

"Of course, master." Oh, how true the phrase 'my boy' was. He had been content with his life for the last few years because he had a place to eat and sleep and train just like at Winterfell. That had begun to change when Viserys had insisted on joining his sessions and thrown a fit whenever he lost. Jon had been forced, literally to let the prince beat him physically so as not to 'anger the dragon' and in doing so Jon had needed to quash the growing beast that represented his anger more than ever.

His silent anger continued to remain like a sword ready to wield at his command, but now it was more like a raging inferno compared to its previous bonfire size.

As Jon grew more and more incontinent, he started to notice how little freedom he actually had. He was only allowed into the city with guards, which he no longer needed but was still forced to bring as they were to ensure he did not escape.

The beginnings of a plan to escape began to form in the deepest depths of his mind, now more than ever he had made sure to observe the timings of guard patrols regular visits and more.

So, when Magister Illyrio spoke his next few words Jon realised he had found his chance.

"To help with that plan I have arranged for Daenerys to marry Khal Drogo, a horse lord in control of over 40,000 men and horses. I plan to send you with Viserys and the girl to ensure her safety. I will free you of any debts you owe me so long as you swear an oath of fealty and loyalty."

That put a hole in his plans and fanned the flames of anger inside him. Was he simply property to be passed between people? No, he would not suffer this. He would kill any who dared to enslave him or try to control him once he was free.

'Winter is coming' were his ancestor's words, perhaps 'Death is inevitable' should be his. Death would come for all who dared to try their hand at making decisions for him.

"Of course, master, I live to serve you and I will die if need be for my new master and mistress." HIs face a cold emotionless mask as the flames threatened to leave the confines of his body.

"Good. You are dismissed."

Jon stood, bowed and left quickly.

The good magister was very pleased with the investment he had made in the young bastard, very pleased indeed.

**298 AC**

**Winterfell**

Lord Eddard Stark watched his brother in all but blood ride through the gates of Winterfell followed by his entire procession which contained nearly half his court if the rumours were to be believed.

Jumping down from his horse in a feat of athletics many would have thought impossible for the fat king Robert Baratheon first of his name strode over to his best friend.

"My Lord, Winterfell is yours."

Robert looked Ned up and down before saying,

"You've gotten fat!"

Both men stared at each other before they both started laughing releasing the tension that they had unknowingly created.

"Where have you been all these years Ned?" Robert asked with a sigh already knowing the answer.

"Searching for my son and protecting the North for you, your Grace," Ned replied.

Robert frowned at that.

"Never did find the boy then. A pity, Jon was sad to learn his namesake had disappeared."

"So was I Robert, so was I." Lord Stark answered.

Robert proceeded to look over each of the Stark children complimenting them before moving on.

"Enough of this! Take me to the crypts I wish to see her!" Robert roared.

Queen Cersei looked as if she might object but a stern look from the King silenced her.

Ned knew he was going to have to become Hand, if not for the fact he would be able to use the influence to widen the search for his lost son.

Catelyn Stark secretly seethed as her husband once again brought up his bastard in public, even after she had disposed of the boy he would not leave her alone! Calming herself she began to chat with the Queen about the latest fashions in the south.

Robb watched depressed as people moved about, seven years later he still missed Jon, and knew he likely would for seven more. What made it easier to remember him was the constant reminders by his Father in their chats and the fact he refused to give his mother the pleasure of forgetting about his brother.

He had even told Bran and Rickon all he knew about Jon and embellished it a little until his mother had banned him from speaking of Jon when Rickon had asked her where the boy was.

In his darkest moments, Robb wondered if perhaps his mother had gotten rid of Jon, but pushed them to the side for fear of what would happen if that was the truth and it came to light.

Kicking a rock, he turned to help the closest visitors unpack and settle in.

**Pentos**

**A month later...**

Jon watched in despair as the Dothraki arrived if he followed them, he would end up further from Westeroes than ever before!

"Respect to one that is respectful, great Khal! May I present my honoured guests, Viserys of House Targaryen, the Third of His Name, the rightful King of the Andals and the First Men; and his sister, Daenerys of House Targaryen." Illyrio cried out.

Khal Drogo rode gracefully up to the steps of the manse before motioning for Daenerys to come closer.

He proceeded to ride around her inspecting her as if she were cattle or property.

Jon wasn't sure if he felt pity or happiness that she was learning how he felt. At least both of them would be sold together.

The Khal left just as quickly as he had come, not bothering to even say a few words. Jon felt the itch to kill the man for his disrespect, even if it was a ridiculous idea.

"Well? Did he like her?" Viserys almost shouted at Illyrio.

"Yes, your grace, he liked her very much. The wedding is set." The merchant said happily.

That night the magister freed Jon of all his debts and had him swear his oath along with another knight from the north, a Ser Jorah.

"I, Jon Snow, Bastard of the North, do hereby swear to serve House Targaryen in the name of the Seven till I am released of my oath or die."

Viserys, Daenerys and Illyrio seemed happy with his oath and for the first time in years, Jon was a free man.

Fuck his oath, the seven weren't real! No god was real in this world that condoned slavery or allowed its followers to do such a thing. If Viserys was the protector of the faith, then Jon would have nothing to do with it.

The moment he got the chance he was going to disappear, permanently. Maybe he would fake his death? He would decide later.

He could not wait for the wedding after all a Dothraki wedding without a few deaths was considered a dull affair, and he planned to kill as many Dothraki as possible.

The day could not come quick enough.

**Pentos **

**Two weeks later...**

A Dothraki wedding was always a violent event so it was no surprise when by the end of it twelve men were dead. It was, however, unusual for seven of those men to be killed by one man who wasn't even of Dothraki origin.

Jon had celebrated his newfound freedom by systematically challenging and killing seven men he saw with slaves and setting them free.

Happy with himself he had retired to his room and slept in it for the last time finally content for the first time in months.

His flames had been calmed by the seven deaths and he had felt lighter than a feather the next morning as he packed all the property he owned in the world.

He mounted his new stallion, a final gift from his old master with a falchion, two longswords, a spear, a short sword and three daggers. Other than these eight weapons he had nothing but the clothes on his back.

He looked rather out of place surrounded by the dark-skinned Dothraki, even if his skin was darker than the typical northerner due to the constant sun.

At fifteen years old he was on the verge of adulthood with hair tied in a knot at the back of his head and the baby fat starting to disappear. He stood at 5"11 with a swimmer build, trained for endurance and agility but not too much muscle.

Years of doing nothing but learning had ensured his childhood had died a quick death and taught him the dangers of the world.

When the horde eventually stopped at the river Rhoyne Jon began his escape. They camped down that night and everyone set up their tents, everyone except Jon who after checking in on Daenerys and Viserys, and by that he meant listening to the grunts coming from her tent and avoiding the irritating brat that called himself King.

At least that was what he meant to do.

Jon had everything ready and had managed to avoid the rest of the camp until he was outside of sight. Just as he was about to ride off into the sunset, he heard a horse galloping to catch up with him.

"Where do you think you are going?" The arrogant voice of the Beggar King called.

"Away," Jon replied.

"You are nothing more than a glorified ex-slave! Return to the camp immediately and I will not have you whipped! You are no better than my bed slave." Viserys said looking at him in disgust.

"Wrong choice of words you incestuous bastard. I wonder if Kings squeal?" Jon said with a sneer of his own as he called upon his anger and picking up his spear swung it into the would-be king's side wounding him deeply.

Dropping his spear, he drew his short sword and advanced.

"Please! Don't kill me! Illyrio will pay for my wellbeing!" Viserys begged as he held a hand to his sucking chest wound.

"That old pig can't help you now!" Jon said with a laugh before he brought his sword down.

Blood spurted from Viserys neck, as all life left the exiled Kings body.

With that done, Jon didn't bother to hide the body, instead, he picked up his weapons, sheathed them and still covered in blood rode out into the night.

**Hello Guys, just to clear some things up, Jon is not a financial genius he just understands how everything works after years of observation. He never specifically mentioned he was Jon SNOW when he met Illyrio and they are on another continent that is why so far no one has recognised him. For the sake of the story Catelyn Stark hates Jon a lot more than in the books or the Tv series although she doesn't deliberately sell him into slavery she assumes that is what will happen.**


	2. A new kind of freedom

**298 AC**

**Norvos**

Jon had ridden day and night to reach the city in an attempt to leave his past life far behind.

He had taken the time to clean his weapons and clothes after bathing in the Noyne river.

Upon arriving in the city, he had been greeted by the guards and admitted into the lower city, as the Upper city was reserved for Norvosi nobles and bearded priests only.

There were some ridiculous walls that separated the upper and lower city with steps leading up to a derelict and grey city of manses.

Although to his luck Jon found the lower city to be more than adequate, full of brothels and beer halls in every street. He had come to the city in the hopes of finding the Company of the Rose, a sell sword company founded by exiled Northmen over two hundred and fifty years ago.

After questioning a few people in some of the many pubs he learned much to his disappointment that the Company was fighting in the disputed lands at the moment and would not be passing through Norvos for at least a year or two.

He could afford to stay in the city and buy a house with the amount of gold Magister Illyrio had given him but that would be boring and possibly dangerous if someone came looking for him.

So, he would restock on supplies in the morning and set out for the disputed lands in the afternoon. Possibly take a boat back to Ny Sar and hope the Khalasar had moved on since his escape a week ago.

Pentos was out of the question, Illyrio would have him castrated and whipped brutally at the very least, and Jon hoped to make good use of his lower body parts in time.

He was barely beginning to turn into a man at the tender age of fourteen and had a lot of growing to do.

Hopefully, he would survive long enough to do that growing.

**Ny Sar**

**With the Khalasar.**

When Viserys body had been found Daenerys had not known what to feel, he had abused her nearly all of her childhood, but she had loved him more than anything. He had been her only family left in the world.

What had made her livid was when she learned it had been the bastard, the boy who had sworn his eternal loyalty to her family by the light of the seven!

She had beseeched her husband to send parties out to track the murderer and bring him to justice.

Khal Drogo had not cared in the slightest, his wife's brother had died in combat honourably which was all a man could wish for.

He had sent out a few parties to make his wife happy but had ordered all of them to return and not stray too far.

What he had done was allow Daenerys to send a messenger to Illyrio telling him of the former slave's betrayal.

The magister, in turn, had sent men to all the major cities such as Norvos, Lorath and Braavos to capture Jon Snow.

All the people of Pentos had orders to give the boy up if he returned and unsullied regularly patrolled the city in search of him.

Illyrio believed the boy would attempt to reach Kings Landing and his father to gain protection.

If he did Illyrio's plans would be discovered and he would be in imminent danger, so he had a personal stake in the capture of the boy.

He had also sent a message to Varys in the city to alert him to the possibility of the boy's appearance.

If necessary, the bastard could be eliminated before he reached his father.

If only Daenerys had notified him sooner! Jon wouldn't have had a week's head start on his assassins and soldiers.

The worst thing was there was an incredibly high chance this was Viserys fault and he had lost a valuable asset because of the boy king's arrogance!

**Norvos**

**The next morning**

Jon woke up early, a useful habit for someone on the run, and immediately headed downstairs for breakfast.

"Some people have been asking about you boy!" The pub owner, an overweight man with a ridiculously long moustache told him.

Jon nodded, taking in his surroundings, looking for anything suspicious.

"Course I told them you weren't here, after all, it wouldn't do to have a customer killed in their bed!" The man continued grinning as if he had told an amazing joke.

Jon thanked him and left a few pennies on the counter before wolfing down his breakfast and picking up the bags of supplies he had bought from the tavern.

Walking out he retrieved his stallion from the stables and headed for the dock, intent on catching a ride down to as far as the Golden fields if possible.

He found several boats accepting passengers and paid the fare, with the boat leaving in two hours Jon had time to kill.

Literally, He was still smarting from being in slavery for so long and felt like eliminating a few slave owners.

So, he headed to the brothels full of slaves and asked to see the owner.

It took a few silvers, but the man eventually accepted an audience.

The man in charge was fat, like all slave masters it seemed and was downright condescending.

Jon didn't appreciate being looked down on, so he gutted the unsuspecting man and stole all the gold from the safe. After all, the dead man wasn't going to be using it.

He fled the scene quickly eager to avoid the city guards, he had been lucky that the brothel had no guards, otherwise, the encounter may have gone differently.

He arrived back at the boat just as they were about to start casting off, assuring the captain everything was fine Jon settled down in a hammock on board and relaxed.

It was ironic that of the free cities only Braavosi were without slaves or bondsmen. Jon couldn't understand the point of calling yourself a free city if you endorsed slavery.

The captain had assured him they would reach Ny Sar in two days and from there to Myr was two weeks.

The bastard of the North would have to hope there were no rogue khalasars roaming the disputed lands.

If he was lucky most would have returned to Vaes Dothrak for the wedding celebrations and induction of Daenerys into the Dothraki properly.

**Sunspear,**

**Dorne,**

**A week later...**

Oberyn and Doran Martell had been planning their revenge for years and all of that planning had been ruined in the space of a month.

Viserys was dead, unable to be married off to Arianne and used to reunite the seven kingdoms under a Targaryen King.

Both men had thrown a fit, although Oberyns had been a lot more visible.

The Prince had wanted to take his three eldest daughters aptly named the Sand Snakes and re-join with his sell sword company the Brave Companions to hunt down and capture the bastard responsible.

Doran had immediately seen the pointlessness of the endeavour and ordered his brother to stand down.

Instead, he had begun searching for a new match for his daughter.

Prince Doran was a man with a set list of objectives, number one on that list was the safety of Dorne closely followed by protecting his remaining family and only after those two he came to revenge.

Dorne, family, and revenge were Oberyns priorities too, however in a slightly different order. He was obsessed with revenge, but still loved his family more than nearly anything else, keeping Dorne safe was just a benefit to him.

With their priorities conflicting the two princes rarely found it possible to agree.

Oberyn would still order the Brave Companions to hunt the boy but without him there they would be ineffectual.

Arianne herself had no idea she had just been freed of a marriage contract, only that her uncle and father were furious about something to do with her.

It was this that helped make the decision to move the court to the water gardens for a while.

**King's Landing**

**Same time**

Lord Eddard Stark, the current hand to the king, was incredibly annoyed with Varys master of whisperers. The man had confirmed his son was alive, but only under considerable duress, somewhere in Essos, and had killed Viserys Targaryen! The fact his son had been forced to kill so early on in life hurt Ned deeply. Yet even after knowing all this the man couldn't or possibly for some reason wouldn't tell him where his son currently was.

Eddard had nearly had the eunuch imprisoned, and had been in such a mood that when Peytr Baelish had taken him to see Cat he had barely listened to her about Bran being nearly assassinated except to tell her if she did anything and he meant anything at all without his express permission regarding the Lannister's he would be incredibly angry.

With the current political climate, he could not afford to have anyone under his authority make a slip up so much to his regret he sent Jory Cassel with her to make sure she obeyed him.

However, he also gave the man another mission, bring back more men.

Ned had noticed how the Lannister men heavily outweighed all the Baratheon and Stark men combined. The experience of having his son taken from him in the confines of his own castle had made Ned a lot more cynical.

Enough to question the loyalty of the Gold Cloaks, the biggest force in the city at four thousand men. A reasonably small amount of people to police a city with a population of a million but a capable fighting force that could be incredibly helpful if it came down to a fight in the capitol.

He was also damn sure that it was Peytr Baelish who was in control of them through bribery. After a little investigation, he had learned a lot of the seven kingdoms debt came from heavily borrowing from the Iron Bank. Now that would be normal if the money borrowed didn't far exceed the amount Robert was spending, even with his lavish tendencies.

Either Robert had decided to take responsibility for half of Westeros bastards and feed and clothe them to their heart's content, or Cat's childhood friend was stealing from the crown.

At first, he had no clue who to go to, he needed proof before he could bring the accusation before the court. Then he realised something, who else benefited from the expulsion of the conniving thief? Cersei Lannister. He may detest her, but she would be able to help him, so he set up a meeting.

She met him in the Gods wood early the next morning with nobody except Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Boros Blunt watching them.

"How can I be of assistance Lord Stark?" She asked stiffly, acting slightly nervous which sent alarm bells ringing in the back of Ned's head.

"I have discovered a dark secret that needs to be addressed as soon as possible." He stated morosely.

Cersei stood straighter upon hearing that,

"Peytr Baelish has been driving Westeros and the crown into debt to further line his pockets. He must be held accountable and have all his assets confiscated to attempt to rid your children and further generations of a considerable burden."

The Queen visibly relaxed upon hearing that what the secret was, and then gained a hard gleam in her eyes.

"You have proven yourself a much more capable hand to the king than Jon Arryn, alas I fear he had a soft spot for Littlefinger. We must endeavour to right this wrong as soon as possible. I thank you for your help." She assured him.

Ned couldn't help but bristle at her insult to Jon Arryn, the man who had been a second father to him and he almost accused her right there and then of poisoning her as Lysa Arryn had claimed. Instead, he regained composure and bowed proclaiming, "I will always be happy to help Robert and his family. If you need help you merely need to ask."

He turned and left satisfied that the matter would be dealt with.

Cersei smiled behind him; she couldn't believe her luck! Lord Stark believed her children were still Robert's and was still determined to help them. Once he swore fealty the Stark honour would keep him loyal and Joffrey would reign supreme.

But first, she would have to deal with the slippery master of coin.

**Myr**

Jon was amazed at the luxury and riches so blatantly displayed by the city inhabitants. As he rode through the streets, he could see the slaves were treated much better in Myr because of their incredible skill and how vital they were to the economy. Almost like family.

This was a city the bastard of the North could grow to love! Not to mention the Company of the Rose was currently based in the city.

There was a real chance to build a life for himself, and more importantly a power base and reputation.

To build a power base one needs people loyal to them, which can only be cultivated over time.

If there was one thing that would stick with Jon for the rest of his life it was the feeling of gratitude he had felt when he was freed, even if he knew it was ridiculous as Illyrio was the one who bought him in the first place.

But what kind of loyalty could be inspired if he deliberately freed people? A gratitude that the former slaves would feel was deserved.

Jon knew it was probably wrong to inspire loyalty through freeing people who deserved to be free anyway. However, the former slave couldn't bring himself to feel guilty.

Like nearly all the free cities Myr had a fighting pit with slaves from all around the world, and since Jon was looking for fighters this seemed to be the best place to look.

Before he made any choices, he planned to watch a few fights in the arena.

So, he entered through the civilian entrance and found a seat among the small folk.

The first few fights were quick, either between an experienced fighter and some vagabond or two vagabonds fighting against each other.

But then the real fights began, with the first between two of the more experienced fighters and the final fight was between the champion and the newest challenger to his position.

"Tubī se fighters karrem se levir kessa vīlībagon naejot se morghon! dīnagon aōha bets kostilus!" (Today the fighters Kareem and Levir will fight to the death! Place your bets, please!)

A man and a boy of olive skin and black hair walked into the arena, one tall and slim, built like a water dancer from Braavos and the other large and heavy set.

The slim boy carried a spear while the large man carried an axe and a shield.

The larger one called Kareem used brute force to push Levir into a corner and slice at his armoured chest.

Levir barely dodged but the axe fixed itself to the plate and ripped it off him.

"It was too heavy anyway my friend, I thank you!" The smaller boy's sultry voice echoed around the pit.

Levir successfully pushed passed the massive man and started jabbing at the small of his back. But Kareem was too strong and after dropping his shield, ripped the spear from Levirs arms.

The smaller boy persisted jumping on the back of the heavyset man and wrapping his legs around his neck.

Kareem's face started turning red then purple and Jon found himself starting to hold out hope for the underdog, who he sorts of sympathised with.

However, it was not to be as Kareem grabbed the boy and pulled him off throwing him to the ground. He raised his axe and waited.

The master in charge began to signal a thumbs up before Jon gave in.

"Wait! Umbagon!" It was enough to give the slave master in charge pause.

"What boy?" The man spoke in the common tongue with the classic sultry tone of the Myrish.

"I wish to buy the small one," Jon said with a tone of authority while pointing at Levir.

"How much will you offer?" An older man from the crowd asked, the boy's owner.

"500 silver Pentosi coins. A better deal than you will get for anything else, after all, he is about to die." Jon declared with no room for argument.

The old man nodded, happy to be making any profit at all.

"Very well, Kareem leave the boy be! He has a new owner." The master in charge ordered the larger slave.

The old man and Jon walked into the pit to conduct the transaction.

Jon threw the slave master the pouch of silver and after taking the key to the slave collar grasped Levir leading him away.

"Your name is Levir right. I know you speak the common tongue well so answer truthfully. How old are you?" Jon questioned.

"Sixteen, master." The boy replied though Jon could sense the desire to fight him and run.

"Good, stand still," Jon ordered as he fitted the key into the lock of the collar.

"You are free now. Do what you will." Levir looked at Jon incredulously,

"You paid five hundred silver pieces for me! Why let me go?" The olive-skinned boy asked.

"I was a slave not too long ago as well. I would see people free not enslaved, but I am not so naive as to think I can free every slave." Jon admitted.

Levir looked at him with something akin to awe.

"What would you have me do?" Levir asked.

"Join me as a companion. My name is Jon Snow and I plan to join the Company of the Rose when they arrive." Jon explained his intentions.

"Yes! I have nowhere to go. However, would you be averse to one more companion if you could afford it?" Levir questioned.

The bastard of the North shrugged and nodded in acceptance.

Together they moved back into the pit, this time both free men and headed underground.

"Bhalar! Where are you? Bhalar!" Levir called as they passed several cages.

They found him in one of the darkest cells in the underground complex.

If Jon had thought Kareem was big Bhalar was on another level. He was the size of a fully grown bear at something akin to 7"3 and towered over his two

visitors.

He was a summer islander, without hair and was almost invisible in the thick overbearing darkness.

"Levir, where is your collar?" The deep-voiced man questioned.

Levir cracked a smile, the entire thing seeming surreal.

"I am free Bhalar! As free as a bird like we always dreamed!" He crowed happily.

The giant man smiled, both friendly smiles were bright and out of place in the gloomy dungeon.

"I am happy for you my friend; I wish you well."

Levir almost started bouncing then,

"Wait! My new friend and the man who freed me here has offered to buy and free you as well!" Told the giant excitedly.

Jon felt himself turn red as he was referred to as a man, Bhalar looked him over.

"It will cost a lot. I am considered an investment." Bhalar said slowly.

Jon nodded,

"I have close to two thousand gold coins; I am willing to spend 15,000 silvers at a minimum price."

Bhalar and Levir were both amazed, fifteen thousand silver pieces was a lot, more than the average merchant earned in a year. Three thousand gold pieces could be used to live for the rest of your decades or at least a few years luxuriously.

"Who do I speak to?" Jon asked getting uncomfortable under their stares.

"Come, Jon! I will lead you. Do not worry my friend, we will be back!" Levir declared almost dragging the younger boy with him.

Across the street was yet another brothel, apparently, they were quite popular with slave owners.

However, this one had two Unsullied guards, who attempted to take his swords, both longswords strapped to his back and the falchion at his side.

He dodged under them and tripped them up before continuing on motioning for Levir to lead the way.

Levir it appeared was not used to people so casually taking out elite eunuch soldiers and took a moment to collect himself.

"I trained with them, I know their training and weaknesses like the back of my hand," Jon explained.

They passed several bed slaves who winked flirtatiously and were delighted to receive a smile in return from Levir while Jon ignored them.

At the top of the building, they entered a Solar that was amazingly bare compared to the rest of the building. Inside was a well-built middle-aged man with the classic Myrish colouring.

"Salutations, my name is Andaren Baerley, the owner of this establishment." He spoke not looking up.

"Salutations Magister Andaren, this is my companion Jon Snow. He wishes to purchase Bhalar from you. He offers 15,000 Silver pieces." Levir spoke before Jon himself could reply.

So, this man was a magister, he didn't look special, although it would explain the unsullied.

"Ah! The mysterious Jon Snow. Many people are looking for you, not all kind. Your father has put out a twenty thousand Gold dragon reward for your return. Magister Illyrio has not been as generous, he offers ten thousand gold pieces. Perhaps you would care to shed some light on the situation?"

The man looked up now, a dangerous look in his eye.

Jon was already moving the moment he mentioned reward, falchion drawn and at the magisters throat.

"It is an offence punishable by public lashing to draw a sword in front of me without permission," Andaren said calmly.

"All I want to do is buy Bhalar. Agree, hand over the keys and let us leave." Jon replied.

Levir was just looking on in horror.

"Relax Snow, I want to help you." The Magister reassured.

Jon was shocked, why would this man help him.

"I know you are confused but you need to understand I am the least influential man out of the Magisters and if I wish to increase my standing, I need to make some investments and allies," Andaren explained.

So, he was looking out for himself, Jon could respect that.

"How can I help? More importantly, what can you do for me?" Asked Jon sheathing his sword.

"Good questions. According to Illyrio, you are quite the fighter. I can guess you plan to join the Company of the Rose. I would have you build an army of men loyal only to you and help me take control. It will take years to achieve my dream, but I am hopeful. If we succeed, we will have control of Myr, and both be incredibly wealthy." Andaren Baerley outlined his plan.

Jon could see everything could go horribly wrong, but he had already planned to do something similar anyway so he saw no harm in agreeing, after all, it would be years before anything would be possible.

"I will accept your help and agree to your plan if you sell me Levir's friend." Jon decided.

"Very well, to seal our agreement I will sell you Bhalar for a single silver piece." The magister agreed.

They shook hands just as the Unsullied from downstairs burst in,

Jon didn't bother aiming for their privates if they were any other men, he might have instead he elbowed the first one in the face breaking his nose and swiped his legs out from under him before pushing him into his buddy.

The second Unsullied lost his balance and barely managed to keep upright before Jon grasped his head and kneed him.

"Stand down!" The Magister called slightly too late, as the two injured Unsullied backed down.

"At least I can be sure of your fighting capabilities now," Andaren said with a smile.

Jon merely held out his hand and waited for the keys. When he had them, he left the room with Levir trailing slowly behind him. For a slave from the pits, the older boy was woefully unprepared for close combat, something Jon would have to fix.

It took them minutes to navigate the stinking dungeons and make their way back to Bhalar.

He was brooding in his dark cell when they approached.

"I am sorry Bhalar," began Levir, to which the large man frowned, "But it appears we are going to require you to stop brooding so we can leave this place forever!" The slim boy finished with a smile.

Bhalar looked disbelieving even when Jon opened the cell door and motioned for him to crouch.

When the collar came off Bhalar started making a deep throaty laugh.

"I am free! Come friends let us celebrate!" Bhalar cried dancing out of the dungeons in record time due to his large stride.

"Wait! We need to get both of you some respectable clothing!" Jon told them.

Bhalar and Levir looked at each other and broke out in grins.

They pranced around the city buying a red silk tunic for Bhalar to fit his entire bulk and a smaller blue silk tunic for Levir. Jon bought some new, albeit nicer travelling robes and a simple tunic.

Jon then gifted both of them ten gold coins for drinks the rest of the night and joined them on a spending spree around the city, mostly in taverns and brothels.

**The Dothraki sea**

**Khal Drogo's tent**

Daenerys was close to giving up, her brother had been killed, she was eternally sore from her nights with Khal Drogo and riding all day.

What was the point of marrying Drogo if there was no Viserys to take the throne? She would be lying if she said she missed him, he had abused her and been cruel to her all her life.

Maybe it would be better to just end it.

As she fell asleep that night a dream came to her, a massive Dragon that covered the sky flying over beautiful lands. She felt like a queen, immense power over all the land as she watched the Dragon come flying towards her its maw opening as it released flames upon flames of fire that engulfed her fully. This is not a fire of death but one of rebirth.

She woke up with a start, she felt new, fierce and something she had never felt before, confidence.

**Crossroads Inn**

**Westeros**

Catelyn Stark had felt a cold fury descend on her when she spotted Tyrion Lannister, one of the men responsible for the crippling of her beautiful child Brandon.

She was about to stand up and denounce the imp so as to hold him, hostage, when she pushed back down by Jory Cassel.

"I'm sorry my lady but Lord Stark explicitly ordered no confrontation with Lannister's, be they Imp or whole."

Catelyn glared at him with all the hate she could muster but he would not stand down, determined to obey his lord.

He did not let go of her shoulder until Tyrion Lannister had left the inn and continued on his way. They left quickly the next morning in the hopes of meeting with the troops ordered by Lord Stark to gather at Greywater watch and make their way south. Five hundred men trained specifically to guard and loyal to none but House Stark. Ned no longer felt safe in Kings Landing surrounded by Lannister men, with only fifty guards of his own and well over two thousand lions he couldn't bring a force any bigger than five hundred without drawing attention. He had already spoken to Robert, luckily the King did not like the Lannister's outnumbering him either and had ordered more Baratheon men into the city almost daily. With a thousand Baratheon men already in the city with orders to obey every order given by the hand to the king and five hundred Northmen on their way, Lord Stark was starting to feel a little safer.

Catelyn was completely unaware of this and just thought her husband was being paranoid.

If Cersei Lannister hadn't been so sure Eddard knew nothing of her children's true heritage, she might have accelerated her plan to kill Robert before too many enemy forces arrived. However, in her arrogance, she believed her family untouchable, though it might have been more because of Lord Baelish.

**King's Landing**

Peytr didn't know where it had gone wrong! He had plenty of money from robbing the crown for over a decade and nobody paid him much attention until Cersei Lannister decided the books were looking dodgy and had gone hunting for the missing money like a bloodhound.

She had brought in master's trained for the job and found over two million in Gold dragons missing. With a debt of six million to the Iron Bank, the Tyrells, her father, and Tyroshi cartels she had been livid.

She had seized control of all his assets after having Gregor Clegane beat them out of him, all his brothels and ships belonged to the crown now.

They had only recovered five hundred thousand gold Dragons because the rest was invested in his businesses. The Iron bank had been most accommodating and had emptied his accounts to pay off the debt owed to them. With nearly a million still owed to the faith, three million to her father and two million to the Tyrells all of his businesses profit was going to paying off the crown's debt. The faith would be paid before the year was over and then the Tyrells with Cersei's father coming last in the list of priorities.

All Peytr's crimes had been announced to the world and he was to be executed in the morning.

Varys was a loyal man even if he claimed to serve the realm, the Targaryen Dynasty would always be best for the realm in his eyes.

So, when he saw a way to help his Queen, he took it.

Littlefinger was offered a choice, death or search out and destroy Jon Snow.

Needless to say, the slippery man took the last option and snuck out of the city immediately with a hired sell sword who was sent with him to help.

Bronn was along for the gold and nothing else and if there was one thing Littlefinger was known for it was providing gold.

So, in a set of unlikely events Peytr Baelish and Bronn, the sell sword teamed up to kill the Bastard of the North.

Even if he was miles away.

**Myr**

**Recruiting tent**

Jon, Levir and Bhalar were all in the recruiting tent for the Company of the Rose. Jon had chosen this company because it was founded by exiles from the North. They did most of their fighting in the disputed lands against Dothraki and other raiders.

It was only two and a half thousand men strong with a thousand cavalry and thousand infantry men, and just over five hundred archers.

It was a group of men Jon could build up and strengthen. The current leader of the sell sword company was also an old friend of his. Ser Jonnel Ryswell was the fourth son of Lord Rodrik Ryswell of the Rills and one of Jon's tutors who had offered to help him escape when he younger.

He had been sent away before any plans could be made, Jon just hoped he was still willing to help.

"You look like shit!" Came a rough voice the entrance to the tent.

"You look like your years are catching up old man" Jon replied as he wrapped Jonnel in a bear hug.

"I'm still able to whip your arse in a fight I'll bet!" Came the response.

Jon smirked and introduced his companions.

"Come to join the lads and me at last I see! It will be good to have you!" The older man told them.

He was in his early thirties and incredibly fit because of his lifestyle.

"About that, I don't feel like working my way up in your company," Jon explained.

"Now Jon you know I can't show favouritism!" Ser Jonnel told him off disappointed in his student.

"I thought I'd just beat you in a fight in front of all your men, seems like a good way to assert my dominance," Jon replied.

"Now that's my boy! I'll have it arranged immediately. You'll find some armour in the tent opposite us." Ser Jonnel always loved a good fight, something his men knew and would accept a challenge from anyone he thought worthy.

So not one of them was surprised when a makeshift arena was created and he announced he had accepted a challenge for leadership of the company.

They all had a good laugh when they saw he planned to fight a fifteen-year-old green boy.

Then the fight began, and they stopped laughing and started gaping.

Jon wore nothing except light leather armour which allowed him the element of speed over his larger opponent.

Falchion and shield raised up and at the ready both fighters circled, until seeing a weakness Ser Jonnel attacked with a feint towards Jon's side while bringing his own shield up to smash into Jon when he dodged.

Realising what he planned to do Jon didn't bother parrying and instead stepped backwards redirecting the enemy sword away from him and into the ground. Ser Jonnel was not perturbed and merely ripped his sword from the ground and continued his attack.

Left slash, right parry, kick to the chest to destabilise and Jon was on the retreat again. Jon had not filled out enough to be able to charge the larger knight head on, but he could trick him.

Rushing forward with shield aimed him and sword aimed low it looked like he was putting everything into his charge so Jonnel being the honourable man that he was brought his own shield to bear and charged as well.

Just as they were about to meet in a collision of swords and shields Jon dropped to one knee smashing his shield into Jonnel's shin causing the man to fall over just as the pommel of the knight's sword came crashing down on his head.

**Medic Tent**

**The outskirts of Myr**

"The fuck happened to me?" Jon roared as he woke up with a blinding pain in the back of his head.

"You picked a fight you couldn't win!" Levir supplied cheerfully.

The boy was somewhat reassured that Jon wasn't a complete legend and was fallible.

When Bhalar started laughing all Jon could do was glare at the both of them.

"Still not quite good enough to beat me, Jon." Ser Jonnel crowed to the tent as he walked in.

This was a rather unwelcome reminder to Jon who merely started brooding in response.

This caused everyone to laugh again, and the hints of a smile could be seen on the fifteen-year-olds face.

"You're a good fellow lad but you are going to need a little more experience before you start leading my company. Join us for a year and we'll see about getting you that experience. The Dothraki always need a good culling!" The Northern man offered.

He was right of course Jon reflected, he had no experience leading men, only killing them.

"How many Unsullied could I get for two thousand gold coins?" Jon asked.

Jonnel looked thoughtful for a moment before answering,

"They don't really have a fixed price, but I reckon maybe two hundred if you bartered well." He replied.

"That is good, how do you feel about pooling our resources and buying some Unsullied for the company? I reckon if you give me a few hours and one of the Free cities I could gather the gold." Jon asked.

"They are useful when fighting Dothraki. Very well but remember these men will be different from your friends and even you. They have been conditioned to be tools and nothing else by the cruellest men in the world." Jonnel warned.

If he was to kill a 40,000-man Khalasar Jon would need all the help he could get.

**King's Landing**

Eddard Stark was worried, ever since Baelish had been dealt with he had been using his time wisely. The experience with Cersei and what she had done to Littlefinger had proven to him that she was untrustworthy.

Jon Arryn had mentioned the 'seed is strong' on his deathbed and Ned had started investigating it. Jaime and Cersei Lannister had been making a big show of saving the kingdom from the thief and were distracted so Lord Stark borrowed some books while Grandmaster Pycelle was away with a whore. Specifically, ones about lineage.

Assuming seed was referring to a bloodline then Jon Arryn may have been talking about sweet Robin in the Vale. If the seed was strong maybe he was referring to the way Robin was being brought up? Lysa Arryn was not a stable woman and could not be expected to look after her child properly anymore as she clearly did not have the child's best interest at heart.

He had sent a raven to Lord Yohn Royce ordering the fostering of Robin with him at Runestone and to ensure he grew into a better lord than Lysa and her mothering could ever do. Catelyn would be angry with him for this but he knew it was the right thing to do when the reply was quick and without delay, apparently, Lord Royce had been waiting for the chance to foster Robin for quite some time and had been in talks with Jon Arryn.

Ned knew for a fact that Jon had been in several talks over where to foster his son but had decided the Vale was a much safer place than any other kingdom for his son.

Robert had been informed of his plans and had been delighted offering to foster one of his sons while Ned fostered Tommen.

Ned had asked for time as his next oldest son was a cripple and Rickon would be ready for fostering for a few years.

With the crown's debt disappearing at a much quicker pace than expected Lord Stark had recalled Lord Beric Dondarrion from his hunt for the mountain who rides.

Janos Slynt had been arrested on charges of corruption and sent to the wall much to Roberts pleasure as apparently, Robert had hated the man for quite some time.

Lord Beric had been given an even harder challenge, route out the corruption in the gold cloaks and take control effective immediately.

With Renly in the city for the first time in weeks, Eddard was able to gain the man's permission to assign a new Lord Commander. Really it was a formality as Renly was utterly useless, but it was the thought that counted.

With Lord Beric Dondarrion as Lord Commander of the city watch, things were going to start changing in King's Landing. Starting with the two hundred men that had been found guilty of several crimes and executed that very morning.

Eddard Stark was determined to kill all the snakes in the capital, for Robert and his family's sake.

**Casterly Rock**

Lord Tywin Lannister was not a happy man, Lord Peytr Baelish stealing from the crown was acceptable as it kept the Crown reliant on him, what was not acceptable was the loss of influence in the capital.

Two thousand Lannister guards resided in King's Landing, as well as four thousand Gold cloaks, a thousand Baratheon men and now five hundred Stark men.

Fifteen hundred men guaranteed to fight him, two thousand guaranteed to be on his side and four thousand unknowns.

With the appointment of Lord Beric Dondarrion, the City watch had been overhauled with all the most corrupt men in positions of power executed or sent to the wall.

Two hundred rapists had been sent to the wall castrated, all accused of abusing their positions of power to rape women.

Tywin had been safe in the knowledge of Janos Slynt's ability to accept a bribe from anyone, now that he was gone and Lord Dondarrion had been appointed by Lord Stark he was unsure. His daughter had told him of Lord Stark's loyalty to his grandchildren which was reassuring.

His youngest son had arrived back in King's Landing safely, much to the Lord of Casterly Rock's disappointment.

Maybe sending him to Essos would teach him some responsibility and teach him how to be useful to the family legacy.

Yes, Tyrion Lannister was going to Essos and he would learn to fight.

**Another chapter, Jon wouldn't steal the dragon eggs because when left it was late at night and both Drogo and Daenerys were in their tent with the eggs, Jon would have had to kill at least Drogo to get the eggs and that would have destroyed the story plot I'm building. Jon has quite a lot of money because he robbed the brothel in Norvos.**


	3. Astapor and beyond

**298 AC**

**King's Landing**

The Tower of the Hand was getting rather cramped, with five hundred and fifty guards, two ladies and a Lord not to mention a retinue of cooks and stewards there was a permanent bustle.

When Arya's father had found out she had scraped together enough coins to buy a sword for herself he had been disappointed.

If she wanted something she only had to ask and he would have provided, even if it wasn't very ladylike. He had bought Sansa all the latest fashions from the south ever since she had grown old enough to be interested in them.

Arya had apologised and together they had gone to Toho Mott's swordsmith on the street of steel and had a sword made for her.

Eddard had then procured a sword fighting instructor who he had learnt of on his search for Jon, Syrio Forel, the first sword of Braavos.

The man had come immediately, and Arya would not stop talking about how amazing he was, and how apparently, she was already better than Jon at water dancing.

Lord Stark had been incredibly pleased to hear the tutor telling Arya all he knew of her brother, how he was an incredible fighter, but a terrible dancer and how he feared for any lady's toes who dared to dance with him.

That had elicited giggles from the young girl, one of the few times Ned had seen the nine-year-old girl so happy recently. Catelyn had been pushing for Arya to stop misbehaving, sometimes punishing her regularly to try to get the point across. Arya had nobody to stand up for her, with Robb being explicitly told to leave her alone, Sansa agreeing with her mother and Theon not being very nice.

Maybe if Jon had been around things would have been different, instead, she had grown solemn and quiet lately much to Sansa and Catelyn's pleasure.

A few hours of learning the sword would do well for her.

**The Dothraki sea**

Daenerys had turned fourteen name days old that day. It had taken her that long to find somewhere she felt she belonged. Ever since her dream of the dragon and being consumed by its fire she and Drogo had been having a much better relationship. For the first time ever, Daenerys could say she knew someone who truly loved her.

She had known for a few weeks now that she was pregnant, and now that they were close to arriving in Vaes Dothrak and she was celebrating another year survived it seemed like the perfect time to tell Drogo.

Her Dothraki had gotten much better and she could now hold a conversation with most people who spoke the language.

Doreah had taught her well in the art of pleasure and so after a night with Drogo she told him.

He had been delighted and had picked her up and twirled her around promising her the Seven Kingdoms and any more she should want.

The khalasar arrived in Vaes Dothrak the next day and Daenerys was talking to Ser Jorah as they rode,

"How would the Dothraki fare against the Knights of Westeros Ser?" She asked curiously.

"The Dothraki are the greatest light cavalry in the world, horses are in their blood and should they meet knights on an open battlefield you would be almost guaranteed a victory Khaleesi." The northern knight explained.

Daenerys was satisfied with his answer and rode ahead to investigate the city.

"Why Khaleesi? Why did you have to become pregnant?" Ser Jorah said with a sigh as he went looking for a little bird.

**King's Landing**

Robert stormed into the small council chamber with incredible speed for a man of his stature.

"The bitch is about to whelp! More dragon spawn is exactly not what the world needs! Just when I thought there was only one left."

There was currently no Master of Coin or ships, but the rest of the council stood up in respect.

"My Lord there is really nothing to worry about, my son has killed Viserys. Who is going to follow a Dothraki man? Not to mention the Dothraki will never cross the narrow sea, they fear water." Lord Stark attempted to calm his friend.

"I should give your boy a lordship for that!" Robert crowed remembering the news of the Dragon spawn's death.

"I would rather have leave to find him, your grace," Eddard said solemnly.

Robert shook his head, not about to start that argument again.

"I still want her dead or at least her husband, the horse lord, what was his name?" The king declared.

"Khal Drogo, your grace." Varys supplied,

"Robert! She's barely a child!" Eddard said shocked.

"Please your grace she is weak and poses no threat." Ser Barristan Selmy pleaded.

"She'll die and that's final!" Robert roared, now red in the face.

"Of course, your grace I shall arrange it at once." Varys nodded.

"This is unnecessary! I don't know what happened to you, but I resign as Hand to the King!" Eddard replied quietly glaring at his old friend leaving the chamber immediately.

"You're overreacting Ned! She's just a Targaryen!" Robert roared after him.

Lord Stark notified every one of their impending departure much to both Sansa and Arya's distress. Although Arya was fine when Syrio announced his intention to come with them claiming Arya to be the best student he had ever had. Sansa had shouted and whined and refused to talk to him since, wailing about how she had to leave her precious Prince.

It takes a lot of time to get nearly seven hundred people ready to leave so Ned would be in King's Landing for the next two days.

He had completed all he had set out to do, most of the snakes of King's Landing had been routed, the City watch was firmly under the Crown's control and there were Baratheon men in the capital that didn't obey the Queen.

He had dealt with Jon Arryn's last wish and made sure his seed would bloom as best it could, he could only hope the man was right and his seed was strong. The question of the attempts on Bran's life was still there but once he returned Ned would make sure that no matter what Winterfell had a permanent garrison with more men living on the lands near Winterfell. House Stark had relied on its bannermen and their armies for too long.

Robert had sent several messengers asking for him, Eddard had ignored all of them. The Night's Watch would finally stop pestering him for men with the new recruits being sent up.

Soon he would be able to go searching for his son, Robb had been doing well as Lord of Winterfell, a few years of practice would do him good while he was away.

There was however the chance that with the Lannister threat he would never see Robb or Jon again. So he wrote letters, to all his family and friends and sent them to Greywater Watch where Howland Reed, possibly Eddard's most loyal vassal would look after them. He already knew most of the secrets in the letters anyway.

Eddard entrusted all of the letters to the captain of his guard Jory and had him send them from a location outside of the city, he did not trust Pycelle.

**The Gulf of Grief**

Jon was amazed at the sight of New Ghis as they sailed closely by, the Iron legions were armies out of legend, like dragons but achievable.

The Unsullied were meant to be the Ghiscari legions of old born again.

Bhalar and Levir had never been anywhere other than Myr and their original homes so travelling was a foreign experience to them albeit welcome.

The current leading families of the Company were still in Myr, all of them with northern blood and some even of extinct houses such as Houses Amber, Woodfoot, Greenwood, Ryder and Dustin. Ser Jonnel was married to Bethany Dustin, grandniece of Lord William Dustin's father. Ser Jonnel's sister Barbarey was the Lady Dustin of Barrowtown, but she was not of Dustin blood and could not produce an heir as her husband was dead.

Ser Jonnel's good brother Cley Dustin planned to claim Barrowtown as the last remaining male heir. Jon had been introduced to the two Dustins and the Greenwood family who were all coming to Slavers Bay.

Anthor Greenwood was a man with blonde hair and green-brown eyes that he shared with all three of his sons, Arthur, Arron and Arnolf.

All were good fighters and proud of their history, with a wish to claim some land of their own one day in the North.

With only two thousand gold pieces to spend and an army to build the Company of the Rose had ridden to Volantis, where it procured several ships to make the journey and Ser Jonnel, knowing Jon well prepared to leave as soon as possible.

While the Captain of the sellsword company did this Jon and his two new companions made some money.

Bhalar was too easy to recognise so he could not be part of any thefts, instead, he performed feats of strength in the streets outside brothels and taverns run by slaves and slave masters.

This provided a distraction while Jon and Levir made their way into the offices where all the money was kept and made away with it.

Jon ended up killing twelve slavers, though most could be called unnecessary deaths Jon would disagree saying all slave owners especially ones who mistreated their slaves deserved punishment whether it be loss of coin or death.

Levir only killed two and those were by accident, he hit them too hard when he knocked them out, although he didn't know that.

Together they made off with just over seventeen thousand gold pieces and a few jewels, a reasonable amount for several large businesses, the advantage of robbing slave run operations was nobody paid wages.

With the money safe and the city slave soldiers searching for the killers and robbers the Company had moved on quickly.

The ships had moved quickly, no pirates willing to chance five ships full of soldiers and sailors.

Astapor was nearly a month of sailing away.

**King's Landing**

It was the day of Lord Stark's departure, and Cersei was delighted.

Without the man in the capital, Robert could be assassinated, and Joffrey could be made King. Eddard Stark would show his classic Stark honour and swear allegiance to his best friends' son.

The takeover would be quick and clean, especially with the last Targaryen about to be killed.

Her father had been angry with the loss of influence in the capital but when the Hand of the King left Cersei would be able to use the brothels now under her control to gather secrets and solidify her grasp on the city, really if she had been born a man she would have been the perfect King.

She was her father reborn, even if he had been too much of a coward to take the throne.

Jaime had been sulking for the last few days as Tyrion had been sent off to Essos and he had wanted to go as well.

Cersei had forbidden him, and he had refused to join her in bed since.

The stubborn fool would give in soon, and they were perfect together, the gods had made them for each other.

Eddard Stark was riding at the head of his convoy out of the when Robert himself came riding out to meet him.

"Ned come on! You don't need to leave! I'll call off the assassination, just come back." Robert pleaded.

"Very well, Robert, I will come back, but only after I have returned to Winterfell and found my son. I have disposed of as many snakes as I can and I believe that if you do as we discussed you will survive the years we stay apart and we will meet again." Ned said coldly, "I do love you brother, but this pit of evil has changed you and not for the better. You are fat and unfit to be King, I hope you strive to change yourself for the betterment of the realm and if not that in honour of Lyanna's memory." his voice grew warmer as he spoke of his love for the man he viewed as a brother.

With his piece said he signalled for the caravan to begin moving again.

If Robert heeded his advice the Kingsguard would be experiencing a turnover very soon, with men loyal to Robert and no one else such as Ser Balon Swann from the Stormlands.

"I'll miss you, Ned," Robert called after him, eyes red from dehydration and sadness. Deep in his enormous gut, he felt guilty over what had occurred and hoped he would have time to fix the situation. Ned's words had resonated inside him, he needed to get fit, and he needed to rule better so that he could be an example to Joffrey and his legacy. Maybe he should get to know a few of his bastards better.

**Winterfell**

Robb was dancing with the stars when he heard his father was returning, being the Lord of Winterfell was an eye-opening experience but a boring one. His mother had returned early that week and already begun discussing marriage options! He needed a break, and soon. Maybe he would visit the Lords of the North and build ties.

He had been reading ravens from all over Essos in the stead of his father reporting sightings of Jon Snow, Bastard of Winterfell, and his feats of killing Viserys Targaryen and robbing brothels all over the continent.

Robb had to admit that killing one of the Targaryen's in the middle of a horde of Dothraki did sound incredible but like most stories, it was probably

either fake or exaggerated.

He knew his father wanted to go searching for Jon, so did he, but both of them couldn't go as Winterfell needed a lord and Rickon and Bran were too young.

The Night's watch had been asking for builders to help rebuild a couple of their castles now that they had more men. He had agreed on the condition the builders were only being lent and would not swear an oath.

They were rebuilding Castle Black, the shadow tower and Eastwatch by-the-sea with better fortifications. Lord Commander Jeor Mormont had expressed a wish to rebuild the Nightfort as well, but that would have to wait until they had more men.

Of the thousand men in the Night's Watch a year ago there were now closer to fifteen hundred with the number growing as more corrupt gold cloaks and thieves were cleared out from all over the crownlands.

With mass execution, not really a viable option the Wall was the next best place to send rapists, murderers, and thieves.

Robb did not envy his uncle Benjen.

**Vaes Dothrak**

Daenerys looked up from the pit she was in as the Dosh Khaleen whaled and chanted, making eye contact with Drogo and then Ser Jorah she began the task of eating the raw stallion's heart.

It was a long and arduous process with the blood of stallions flowing down her skin as she chewed and forced herself to swallow.

When she finished it took an effort to not throw the heart up, instead, she stood tall, proud of herself for finishing the task.

Her husband roared his appreciation along with the rest of the audience as she held her stomach and the old women proclaimed her child a boy.

They went on to proclaim he would be the 'stallion who mounts the world' a prophesied figure destined to unite all the Dothraki into one khalasar.

Daenerys didn't really listen as she stroked her belly, she would finally have another family member, with Viserys gone she would be all her son had to teach him of his birth right as King of the Seven Kingdoms.

She would call him Rhaego for her oldest brother who she believed would have been kinder than Viserys.

After the feast, Daenerys lay down next to Drogo in his tent whispering into his ear of how he should claim his son's birth right for him.

Drogo would only consider it for now, but Daenerys knew she could persuade him using sex and his love for her.

The next day she was wandering Vaes Dothrak with a few men when she came across a wine seller claiming to be from Dorne.

"What wine would you suggest?" She asked.

"For you my lady, I would gladly give my best wine for free." The small man grinned.

Daenerys smiled back, pleased to be called a lady.

"Perhaps I will take you up on your offer." The Khaleesi decided.

"Yes! When you decide you love the taste remember to come back and buy some! I am here for the next week." The man was incredibly eager.

As he grabbed a barrel and brought it closer Jorah came running closer shouting for them all to stop before looking the barrel over and sniffing it.

"Have a drink with us, good merchant." He ordered.

"I would never drink my own stock!" The merchant said nervously.

"It wasn't a suggestion." Ser Jorah pushed.

"Yes, drink it," Daenerys ordered, suspicious now.

"You will have to forgive me my lady, but I am not thirsty." The man excused himself.

"Make him drink some," Daenerys ordered Jorah.

The little man threw a barrel at the closest Dothraki warrior and attempted to escape pushing past Daenerys roughly and fleeing down the street.

Jorah catches Daenerys before she falls while the rest of the Dothraki set off in pursuit of the man.

Her appointed bodyguard, Rakharo threw a knife and hit the wine seller in

the shoulder sending him crashing to the ground kicking up dirt.

The slippery would be assassin was dragged back to Khal Drogo's tent and tied to a tent where he was beaten bloody until he loosened his tongue.

"What will happen to him?" Daenerys asked,

"He will be dragged behind the horses for as long as he lives, I once saw a man survive nine miles," Jorah answered.

"Why would the usurper try and kill me? I am hundreds of miles away." Daenerys wondered out loud.

"Robert Baratheon will never give up, he needs you and your child dead to secure his family's rule. If you want to live a peaceful life you need to kill him." Jorah told her.

At that moment Drogo came storming into the tent in a fury grabbing his young wife possessively and kissing her. Glaring at the wine seller he whispered comforts into Daenerys ear and stroked her belly.

"Jorah, you may have any horse you wish for your service to my family; this is my gift to you."

"I thank you for your gift, my Khal." Ser Jorah bowed and left.

"My love, I have a gift for Rhaego, we will travel across the sea and take the Iron chair that your father sat in. Rhaego will rule the men who dared to try and kill him. I swear this by the blood of my ancestors and the Stallion God."

Drogo proclaimed.

Daenerys had spent the entire night with Drogo just snuggling as he explained his plan, agreeing with everything except one thing.

She hadn't understood why he wanted to ride south to find slaves to sell at the slaver's city, there were plenty of villages to raid in the west and the free cities would buy slaves. Not to mention it would be easier to find ships to take them to Westeros, she had reminded him of Illyrio and how they could ask him for help.

It had been the promise of the Pentosi Magister's help that had persuaded the Khal to take his horde north-west instead of towards Lhazar and Slavers bay.

They had set off the next morning forty thousand men strong as well as all the women and slaves.

**Braavos**

Peytr Baelish was a man who liked to be in charge, to control things from the shadows, so when he knew he was being controlled himself by a spymaster back in King's Landing and there was nothing he could do about it he was infuriated.

Not to mention the sellsword who had come with him had robbed him the first chance he got and skipped off in the direction of what he could only assume was Lys to find some bed slaves.

Bronn the sellsword would rue the day he crossed Littlefinger, as would all of Westeros when he came back with the last Targaryen and burned them all to the ground before he betrayed the girl as well and finally took the Iron Throne for himself.

The only problem was he had no idea as to how he was going to ingratiate himself into her good wishes.

He was a financial whizz, having managed to get away with stealing money from the crown for years right under their noses.

He would become a merchant, he still had a little money squirrelled away, enough to set himself up and he could join a sellsword company as their paymaster.

Yes, Peytr Baelish would not fail, vengeance would be his, as soon as he got out of Braavosi prison. Bronn the bastard had gotten him arrested to ensure a safe getaway. It was only by quick thinking he gave a fake name in case someone decided to collect on the reward that was no doubt on his head from at least Cersei Lannister, the stupid whore.

He needed followers who were cruel and willing to do anything he asked.

The Brave companions seemed to be made up of people with the correct mindset.

**Lys**

Tyrion had been delighted when his father had sent him to Essos, where better place to be than the city of pleasure? He had already spent enough gold to feed ten families for a year in each of the brothels and was moving on to another when he was confronted with the scene of two men fighting.

Both were clearly drunk; however, it was rather one-sided skill wise.

The man dressed in black oiled ring mail soon bashed his opponent's head against a wall and the fight was over.

"Hey! I know you! You're the imp of Casterly rock! Want to buy me a drink?" The now apparent sellsword asks.

Tyrion looks him over as his guard Jyck handles his sword nervously.

"Very well my good fellow!" He answers good-naturedly.

Together they make their way into the next brothel.

Two men of the same mind they are soon fast friends, helped along by the man's love for gold.

Bronn soon agrees to help Tyrion learn to fight and have a good time in Essos.

**Pentos**

Illyrio soon received word that Daenerys planned to return westwards with her khalasar to take the fight to Westeros, which according to Varys was a very bad idea. Westeros was shaky at the moment but an invasion by Dothraki would unite them and together they were a considerable fighting force and size.

He needed to delay Daenerys and her blood lustful husband, luckily, he had learned of his former slave Jon Snow joining the Company of the Rose.

He would notify Daenerys of his whereabouts and let her fight and crush him first. By then Varys should have been able to destabilise Westeros enough to cause chaos ripe for invasion.

Yes, forty thousand Dothraki would easily beat two thousand five hundred sellswords, the company would serve its purpose and distract them long enough.

The disputed lands would see no difference, used to constant turmoil.

**Astapor**

Ser Jonnel had made the right move when Bhalar was kept away from the masters of Astapor, who would have been sure to bargain for his slavery.

They seemed ready to bargain for anything and everything, all together Jon had offered the equivalent of twenty thousand gold pieces for a thousand Unsullied. That was twenty pieces per slave, more than even the most expensive markets in the free cities and the masters till wanted more.

Eventually, they decided upon twenty-three thousand pieces for a legion of Unsullied and ships to carry them.

The extra three thousand had come from the coffers of the sellsword company itself, not Jon and his expeditions and thefts.

He had promised to repay them the moment they made it back to the free cities and he could rob some more slavers because after all, that was his biggest source of income.

They departed as quickly as possible sailing as far as possible out to the Gulf of Grief before Jon decided to continue his plan from when he freed Bhalar and Levir.

Speaking in bastard Valyrian so that all of the Unsullied could understand,

"Loyal soldiers! I come before you as the boy who bought an army, now I would free you from your bonds of slavery so that just as the Iron legions of Old Ghiscari were made of freemen so will you be. I will not promise you the freedom of every slave on the planet, that is unreasonable for merely a few thousand men, but I do promise you this if you swear loyalty to me and join the Company of the Rose together we will ensure that we help break slavery where we can! I was a slave once too! Now I am free and so are you!" Jon roared to the masses of eunuch soldiers.

There was silence as his words took root in their ears and then the thudding of their spears began to sound as they beat them against the decks of the ships growing louder and louder until it was almost deafening.

"FREEDOM! FREEDOM! FREEDOM! FREEDOM!" Was roared for all the bay to hear, something that gave Jon another idea, they had nowhere near enough men to even attempt taking one of the major cities of slavers bay such as Yunkai, Meereen, Astapor or New Ghis but the smaller cities that were basically only large towns such as Elyria and Tolos were another matter. Obviously, they wouldn't occupy the cities but with populations of only around sixty thousand, they could sneak in and ransack the city after killing the guards. Three and a half thousand men seemed like enough.

"Jonnel! I have an idea, high risk but even greater reward." Jon called out to the man.

"I'll gather the lieutenants and we'll meet you in the Captain's cabin.

Jon was going to take a city.

**Tyrosh**

Obara, Tyene and Nymeria Sand arrived via ship from Sunspear and immediately sought out the Brave Companions.

Vargo Hoat was a nasty man, but he knew when to obey, and he was being paid to kill Jon Snow.

They were only a thousand strong, but they were all sick and deranged.

They had one of the worst reputations for sellsword companies in Essos.

Oberyn still had a soft spot for his old company, even if it had changed since his departure.

The bastard of the North's location was currently unknown, but they doubted it would be long before he did something stupid and gave himself away.

The Sand Snakes would drink and party, they knew the importance of patience and when they caught sight of their prey they would not let go.

**Lys**

Tyrion really did like Bronn, his humour, and the way he conducted himself really endeared him to the dwarf.

So, when he learned why the man was in Essos he was worried, the sellsword had crossed a very slippery fellow and Varys, a master of whisperers.

"If you want to learn to fight you need to join a company. I've always wanted to form my own company. Bronn's Bastards. Has a nice ring to it." The sellsword mumbled drunkenly.

"You don't say? Maybe I should open a tavern and call it Tyrion's Tavern." Tyrion asked rhetorically before deciding, "Perhaps it would be for the best if you did form your own company. We could use my gold to back you."

Bronn looked up considerably less drunkenly this time,

"You don't say?"

"I do."

"We only just met."

"Which is why I won't be very sad if you get killed." Tyrion finished smiling.

Bronn sat up straighter and picking up a goblet of wine held it up in toast saying,

"To Bronn's bastards!"

Tyrion smirked,

"To your bastards!"

The next morning as they recovered from their hangovers Bronn began sending messages to all the sellswords he had worked with in the past.

Together Bronn and Tyrion would soon easily form a company of eight hundred men using Lannister gold and the sellswords contacts.

They made plans to go on and pillage the disputed lands.

Until they heard of the approach of a forty thousand strong Khalasar, one that was led by the infamous Khal Drogo and Daenerys Targareyan.

**Elyria**

**Slaver's Bay**

With a population of sixty thousand men, women, and slaves it was one of the smallest cities in Essos. The Golden Company had sacked Qohor, a city of half a million with ten thousand men, Jon could sack a city three times smaller with only three and a half thousand men.

It had been relatively easy to sneak in with five hundred or so men of the company into the city with them all taking positions near the gates ready to open them for the Unsullied and the rest of the company.

When night fell Jon lead the men under his command and burned the barracks around the city after blocking all the exits.

As their screams pierced the air the soldiers guarding the gates were killed and they opened letting in a horde of men.

Most of the population were women and slaves, and when the Unsullied freed the Slaves some joined in the fighting killing what remaining guards there were, and any who decided to be loyal and fight back were regrettably killed, Jon couldn't be everywhere.

The barracks were the only buildings to be burned as the point of the sacking was to find wealth.

Men and women could be heard shouting and screaming as men and guards fought and slave masters died gruesome deaths.

The stench was already beginning to fill the streets as men and women died and their bodies were left to rot.

While all of this was happening Jon, Bhalar and Levir were making their way to the pits killing any who dared to challenge them.

The Greenwood family were charging around madly as they searched taverns for alcohol while everyone else pillaged for gold and silver.

Like all of the cities of slavers bay, Elyria had a large fighting pit and when Jon had told his two companions of his plan to free the slaves forced to fight, they had immediately agreed to come with him.

The guards had already been killed by some of the sellswords running around rampaging, so the three fighters merely walked in.

If they had thought the fighting pit in Myr had cruel dungeons these were on a whole other level, there was no light except for a few torches, and some of the slaves looked incredibly skinny.

"We are here to free you all!" Jon called out in several languages.

Some looked up but the rest didn't bother.

Until they started breaking open cell doors and removing collars, there were nearly six hundred slaves being starved and kept in captivity.

Luckily, they had foreseen this and had tents waiting outside the city gates with healers the Company had bought and freed from slavers bay.

Food was being brought into the tents from all around the city as a select group of men pillaged for food while others searched for gold and wealth.

Rape was sadly an inevitable crime in a pillaging that would occur, but the men had been warned on pain of death against it and it wasn't like the Unsullied were able to have sex.

Slaves from all over the city were being brought back to the tents to be fed and clothed.

It was hours later as the sun rose that all the collected wealth such as tapestries and jewellery was brought before Ser Jonnel in the courtyard of the biggest Manse.

The paymaster, Corren Woodfoot, took count of all of it estimating how much everything was worth and paying the man or the men a percentage of the cost in gold.

They would sell it all in the free cities for high prices.

One of the biggest gift horses had been the bank holding the tithes meant for Meereen. Elyria was a vassal to the much larger and more powerful city and had been readying the tithes owed every five years at an amount of one hundred thousand gold pieces.

Enough to go back and buy a few more thousand Unsullied, if not for the fact that Astapor would be required by Meereen to fight them because they had ransacked a vassal of the great city.

Instead, Jon offered freedom to all who wished it and a place in their company sellsword company with Ser Jonnel's permission to all who could fight. This occupation and freeing of slaves had secured the loyalty of the Unsullied.

Of the six hundred from the fighting pits just over half joined the rest too sick of bloodshed.

Of the thirty thousand slaves more than two-thirds were women and children who wanted to stay in the city and rebuild.

Over eight thousand men, women and even some children wanted to join the company, the problem was most of them couldn't fight and the company couldn't afford to have even a thousand stragglers.

So, Ser Jonnel ordered that all women or men in relationships with capable fighters that were joining the Company were to be allowed to come, the rest were to stay behind or take one of the remaining ships and sail wherever they wanted.

Of the eight thousand only three thousand fighting men and women remained, a surprisingly large number of the women could fight.

Even if they had barely ten percent of the original number of slaves three thousand was a massive bolster to their ranks.

In barely three months the Company of the Rose had gone from two and a half thousand men to six and a half thousand.

The freed slaves from Elyria needed to be trained before they would be a powerful fighting force, as most of them merely knew how to stab someone with the pointy end.

Training would begin effective immediately, although it was harder to train on ships even with sixteen of them. Ser Jonnel had announced his plans to join up with the founding Houses of the company in Myr.

Jon had already met the Greenwoods, one of the founding houses, and once they arrived in the city Houses Fisher, Forrester, Amber, Ryder, Woodfoot, Ashwood, Dustin, Greenwood and Ryswell would decide on the company's next course of action.

Ser Jonnel as Commander had the last say, but he was open to suggestions and with their new forces needing to be blooded properly the disputed lands were calling.

**King's Landing**

Ser Barristan Selmy had been incredibly surprised when his liege lord expressed a wish to get fit.

Even more so when he actually turned up early the next morning and began doing stretches.

Deciding that it was just a phase that needed to be left to diminish and disappear the kingsguard began to push his grace as far as he thought allowable without being accused of attempted murder.

Robert Baratheon had never considered jogging in the last fifteen years of his life, and after a morning of it, he realised why. It was bloody tiring and he had enough sweat by the end of it to fill a bath. It gave him a buzz he hadn't realised he had lost.

He didn't have time for whores or drinking and hunting. Those would have to be fitted into his new schedule when he felt adequately thinner.

By the old gods and new! He had been the Demon of the Trident! Vanquisher of the Mad King's army! and he was fat. Fat and a whoremonger.

It depressed him and made him wonder if this was how the bastard Rhaegar Targareyan had felt when he was in a melancholic mood.

Ser Barristan had expressed his amazement when Robert did not give up after the first day and praised him after the first week.

It helped massively that visible signs of fat slowly disappearing could be seen and spurred the King on.

His bitch of a wife had been whining about appointing Tywin Lannister hand to the King and a Lannister puppet as Master of Coin.

This had immediately caused the King to think about his own relatives who could be trusted. The Estermont's were family, he would make his cousin Eldon Master of Coin. His brother Stannis was the current Master of Ships but had been missing the past few weeks. He would make a loyal hand of the king.

A letter would need to be sent ordering his return, after which Monford Velaryon could take over as Master of Ships giving Stannis control there as well. Yes, his new small council was shaping up to look very loyal. Especially since there was little Lannister influence.

Until such time as Stannis arrived, he would need to take a more direct hand in the governing of the seven kingdoms, see who was plotting, who had ambitions well above their station.

It was about time he became an actual King.

**Dragonstone**

Stannis was confused and not a little bit annoyed when he received the letter from his brother ordering his immediate return along with Lord Monford.

Then he learned of Eddard Stark's resignation and knew he was finally going to be named Hand.

He had been building more ships and hiring sellswords after learning of the Royal children's true parentage in preparation for the war to come.

He took his fastest ship back to King's Landing as even though he felt slighted by Robert he knew that it was his duty as brother and subject to protect him from the Lannister's.

His army and Navy would continue to build under the watchful eye of Ser Davos, and he would be ready to protect Robert, but perhaps he would hold off on bringing the shadow binder from Asshai into his household yet. Best not to bring a pagan priestess into his home just yet.

**Castle Black**

Lord Commander Jeor Mormont had long felt a deep disappointment when it came to the Night's Watch. It was at an all-time low, consisting of criminals of all sorts and very few honourable men.

What he needed now that it came to mind was for a war to break out and the losers sent to the wall to serve for the rest of their lives.

A selfish thought but not one that would bring him much guilt.

Benjen Stark had been missing for months and had been presumed dead causing Jeor to appoint Qhorin Half-hand as First Ranger in his absence.

With their number more than doubled they had been able to begin the reconstruction of Queensgate to the west and Long Barrow to the East.

He dared not begin rebuilding the Nightfort, with all its curses and legends, especially after the attack by wights in his office.

Luckily, they were slow and noisy, Samwell Tarly had heard them and thrown fire at them from above as they tried to escape the room their bodies had been placed in.

For a craven, he was remarkably good at disposing of threats to himself and others.

An honour to his house he had sworn his oaths immediately and even though he was the steward to Maester Aemon Jeor could see him going far in the order.

With still more men trickling in the orders biggest demand was builders and people to settle the Gift and New Gift.

Best of all most of the new recruits could fight as they had either been knights of the City Watch in King's Landing or bandits captured on the road.

Ser Alliser Thorne may not have shown it, but he was happy to see a steadier stream of recruits, especially ones who could help him teach others to fight.

He was beginning to grow a following as the newer men looked to someone to follow in the immediate vicinity, already disillusioned with Janos Slynt after the fiasco that had landed them here.

Hopefully, they could garner support from Lord Stark and rebuild some of the other castles as well. The Night's Watch would rise again.

**The Water Gardens**

Arianne had harboured a deep hatred for all upright snobby lords ever since she had found the letter in her father's solar telling of how Quentyn was to be the ruling prince of Dorne, not her.

Her father had been reassuring Quentyn while he was being fostered away from Sunspear.

Ever since then she had been plotting constantly to find ways to ensure she kept her birth right.

She had been presented with a new one recently, the reason for her uncle and fathers' mysterious anger, Jon Snow.

She had a loyal following but not one strong enough to defend her claim successfully without civil war, but a private army would.

The Company of the Rose counted as a formidable force, especially since from what reports she had heard the now renowned Bastard of the North had procured a thousand Unsullied and set them free guaranteeing their loyalty.

A worthy ally that could be made to obey her once she wrapped him around her little finger using whatever means necessary.

Ser Cletus Yronwood, a close friend of Quentyn's and a loyal man of Arianne's, and Ser Arron Qorgyle another of her followers would set out in the morning for the disputed lands to find the enigma that was Jon Snow and give him her letter.

The Princess of Dorne was not someone who took no for an answer.

**All Questions and reviews welcome but that doesn't mean I'll reply though.**

**I own nothing, all rights belong to G. R.R Martin.**


	4. Lys

**298 AC**

The Frostfangs were a beautiful and dangerous place, with high jagged peaks and deep lush valleys for the free folk to live in.

Mance Rayder was a well-liked man, some would go as far as to say an incredibly well-liked man. So when he asked the free folk to gather in preparation for an enemy who would kill them all they damn well did.

The-King-beyond-the-wall had faced many a wildling chief to gain the influence he now wielded defeating such men as Tormund Giantsbane and Styr Magnar of the Thenn.

With over a hundred thousand men, women, babes and livestock there was a veritable tent city along the Milkwater river.

Val was the sister to Dalla, wife of Mance, and a strong voice in support of her good brother among the free folk. Many wildlings had refused to answer the call still under the impression there was nothing to worry about but those who were in charge and in the King's inner circle knew better.

The Others were returning. It was a matter of when not if now.

There was a plan now, after a year of arguing and fighting Val and Mance had finally managed to make their fellow chiefs see reason.

The Seal Lord would provide ships for men and spear wives to take Skagos.

When they had achieved this the children and elderly would be taken across and better ships would be built, upon which they could sail South-east beyond the wall and Westeros.

Why break themselves against the wall, the only thing keeping the Others out, when they could just sail away.

The Night's Watch had barely more than two ships to police the bay of seals, they could be taken care of easily.

Ten thousand warriors under the command of Tormund Giantsbane and his sons had set out for Hardhome with the Seal clan to take Skane and Skagos.

Houses Stane, Magnar and Crowl would not be able to put up a fight. They were barely able to field three thousand armoured men after constant raiding and would surrender or escape soon enough.

Tormund had three moons start on them and would move a lot quicker with only fighters, which was why the reaming tens of thousands were packing quickly in order to begin their journey as soon as possible.

Winter was coming as the Starks liked to say, and it would wait for none.

**Winterfell**

Lord Eddard Stark was delighted to be home, no backstabbing snakes or liars, just good honest people who he could trust.

His wife Cat met him in the courtyard with their children.

"Winterfell is yours, my lord," Robb said from his kneeling position.

Ned barked a laugh and pulled his boy into a hug as his wife did the same to her daughters.

Bran was up and about as much as he could be in his new contraption from the citadel called a wheelchair.

Without the possibility of becoming a knight, he had taken to his academic studies like a fish to water.

Ned had been reminded of how close his family had come to death once again, which only hardened his resolve to better fortify Winterfell and the North as a whole.

"I come with many builders, I plan to have Winterfell renovated from the bottom upwards, with all the walls being fortified more than before a trench with stakes in for cavalry. The North and I remember that the south tends to bring the North into its problems." Ned announced to the gathered audience.

Catelyn didn't see the need and viewed it as over paranoia and a waste of resources.

Robb on the other hand after filling in his father about the Night's Watch was fully onboard and even suggested starting the rebuilding of Moat Caitlin.

"Send ravens for Ser Helman Tallhart and Galbart Glover to man the Moat while we send builders and protect them. Have four hundred bowmen go with them. I want word sent to Greywater Watch to have the Crannog men said help as well. If all goes well, I may end up giving Moat Caitlin to Bran or Rickard." Eddard ordered Maester Luwin.

"Of course, My Lord, at once." Bustling off to complete his orders.

Lord Stark may no longer be Hand to the King, but his work was certainly not over.

**Deep in the Wolfswood**

A full-grown Dire wolf nursed her pups in the safety of her den, away from the threats of the world, readying them for what was to come.

Teaching them to hunt and kill would come soon, and not long after they would leave her and seek out their companions.

**King's Landing**

Robert was still fat but to Stannis and Renly's surprise next time they saw him he was considerably less fat.

His diet and exercise were going well, he was still overweight but nowhere near the levels of obesity that he had been a couple of months ago.

Constant training, eating bread and cheese and drinking only water had given Robert a new healthy glow that seemed to infect anyone he talked to.

Stannis had been officially appointed Hand of the King and was amazed to find Robert had taken to having direct input into the running of the kingdom.

Maybe there was a chance he could remarry and have more heirs? But to who? So began Stannis attempt to find eligible bachelorettes for his brother under Cersei's nose.

His most viable option, of course, was Margaery Tyrell, but she was only fifteen. A good time to start birthing children but compared to Robert who was thirty-six! He was more than double her age, something Stannis couldn't bring himself to put her through, imagining if the same thing were to happen to his daughter.

He had realised after learning of the true parentage of the royal children that he needed to birth more legitimate heirs.

Lady Selyse had spent more time in bed with Stannis in the past few weeks than she had in the last few years of marriage.

On the eve of his departure, he learned that his wife had stopped ovulating and was expecting a child. He could only hope and pray to the gods that it was a son.

Ser Garlan Tyrell, the second son of Lord Mace Tyrell, had recently come into his service as head of his guard. Stannis had appointed the man second in command of the City Watch, with both Lord Beric and Ser Garlan working together the reformation of the City watch would be a lot quicker.

He hoped to build alliances through the second son with the reach in the hopes of a reasonably bloodless takeover when he ousted the Lannister's.

The plan had been set, he would wait until Robert was in his prime fighting form before telling him the news and together, they would take out the Lannister men in the city and have Jaime Lannister admit to cuckolding the King and siring bastards. Not even Tywin Lannister would be able to dispute such truth. Cersei and her children would be sent back to Casterly Rock or possibly Dorne and Essos in case the Lannister's decided to try and put Joffrey on the throne even with his parentage public knowledge.

Soon, soon he would be able to wipe the smug look of both Lannister twins.

**The lands around Volantis**

Smoke dominated the vision of everyone in the town of Valysar, houses burning as the Dothraki pillaged and raped freely.

Daenerys knew this was necessary to ensure the Khalasar was taken seriously and given enough tribute to buy many ships but that didn't mean she had to put up with watching men rape the innocent women.

When the meagre defence was crushed, and loot was being collected the Khaleesi began walking around claiming as many women as she could as her own slaves. Some of her claims were met with grudging acceptance, others with barely concealed fury, one man, a rider called Mago downright refused to hand over his slave and laughed in her face.

She had Rakharo beat him unconscious and take the women he had captured with her bringing all of them back to her tent and feeding them.

Mago was infuriated when he woke up and found his loot and slaves gone.

Drogo and Daenerys had been feasting after the battle when the offending rider marched in and demanded recompense for the loss of his loot.

"Fin hash yer tat astat anna wife fin tat?" (Who are you to tell my wife what to do?) Khal Drogo questioned.

"Tih Khal anna is Kishi tradition to take slaves ma loot, would yeri allow yeri chiorikem to deny anna ki jil?" (My Khal it is our tradition to take slaves and loot, would you allow your Wife to deny me that right?) Mago demanded.

"Is jinak true? Yeri hash taken tih lajak's slaves ha yourself?" (Is this true? You have taken my warrior's slaves for yourself?) Drogo asked Daenerys.

"Aih tih Khal." (Yes, My Khal.) Replied Daenerys, suddenly worried.

"Yeri hash bold, anha will athchomar ki. Yeri laz keep the slaves Khaleesi." (You are bold, I will respect that. You can keep the slaves Khaleesi.) Drogo decided, proud of his wife's wild spirit and boldness.

"Khal fines assoe mezhah jahakmeni vos khal." (A Khal who takes orders from a foreign whore is no Khal.) Mago sneered.

"Yeri would challenge anna?" (You would challenge me?) Khal Drogo laughed, eyes full of anger from the insult.

"Aih." (Yes) Declared Mago drawing his arakh.

Khal Drogo stood up, irritated about having his meal interrupted, and drawing his own arakh motioned for his former rider to attack.

Not holding back, wanting to get back to eating the moment Mago moved forward Drogo lunged swiftly forward dropping his own arakh and grabbing the other man's arms pulling them behind him.

Disarming Mago he destroyed his neck with a simple thrust and ripped out his tongue before letting the body fall to the floor.

Spitting on the body he motioned for it to be taken away as he sat back down.

"Weak dog!" he insulted the dead man in the westerosi tongue.

Daenerys watched on, feeling weirdly good watching her husband kill a man for her.

It wouldn't be long before Volantis sent a representative with wealth to appease Drogo and ask him to go on his way.

The three sisters were an enticing prospect, especially the disputed lands, coming west was a good idea.

**Disputed Lands**

Bronn was having immense fun; he was pretty sure at least three of the villages he had burned were breweries as the amount of alcohol now in his possession was incredible.

Tyrion had been against raping any women and had instead bought and freed a few Lyseni bed slaves to warm him at night.

Most of Bronn's bastards, however, had no such reservations.

Tyrion was learning to wield an axe, simply because he was short enough to aim for peoples legs without them noticing. For some reason, the sellsword captain he had hired had been incredibly amused by his choice.

People, not many albeit, but some were starting to call him the Imp out of respect instead of disgust now.

It was a pleasant change.

Tyrion had already started sending back the gold he had earned to his father, with a new dream in mind.

One day his father would be made to see that Tyrion was worthy of inheriting his legacy and becoming Lord of Casterly Rock.

They had been informed of the Dothraki Khalasar in the lands around Volantis and knew that eventually, they would make their way to the disputed lands, so Tyrion decided it was a good time to deal with a few loose ends, specifically Peytr Baelish.

"To Braavos Bronn! We need to kill that slippery snake and be done with him otherwise he will hide and attack us when we least expect it."

"Indeed, Lord Lannister!" Bronn shouted back, still in his black oiled ringmail, although with more visible gold jewellery.

**Tyrosh**

Ser Cletus and Ser Arron were not the brightest of knights and very easily recognised, so when they turned up together the Sand Snakes noticed them almost immediately.

It did not take a lot of investigation after that to discover their purpose.

Obara wanted to knock them on their backs and send them back to Dorne, but Nymeria realised that the two men could lead them to Jon Snow.

Obviously, Arianne was going above her station, but she could still be of some use, so rousing the Brave companions they set off in pursuit of their fellow Dornishmen.

A savage force of a thousand men riding deep into the disputed lands.

**Volantis **

In the manse of Alios Qhaedar, Triarch hopeful, there was an eighteen-year-old girl of Dornish descent.

She was two and a half years old when she had been taken from her family, for her own good, and had watched as another girl around her age from Dorne took her place. It had felt like a betrayal.

Then she learned of her family's fate and realised they had loved her more than she would ever know, she had been saved from a gruesome death.

If only she wasn't stuck with such a pig as her guardian and host.

Many of the servants liked her and it wouldn't be long before she had her next chance to escape.

She was certain some of her family had to be alive who could help her.

**Upper Rhoyne**

Captain Yandry steered his beautiful boat through the dark cool waters of the river, the Shy Maid making good time for her size and apparent rottenness.

The Shy Maid was an ugly old ramshackle single-masted pole-boat with a large lateen sail mostly used in Dorne and around the broken arm.

It had been hired by Griff to transport his party to Pentos, as young Griff, an eighteen-year-old with blue hair learned from his tutors Septa Lemore and Half-maester Haldon.

For the son of a merchant, he held himself remarkably highly, was incredibly intelligent and if described with one word by those that knew him was Noble.

The generally uninteresting group was off to meet Magister Illyrio Mopatis and be received as his guests for a time in order to meet some lost relatives.

**Hardhome**

Tormund was not happy to be here, the place was cursed, however, his wish to ensure the survival of his people overcame that dislike easily enough.

They had begun fortifying the place while waiting for the seal boats.

They had enough to transport around five hundred men at a time, with the Weeper leading the last wave they would land on Skane and set up camp before attacking the larger island of Skagos.

The boat trips would be a lot quicker from Skane to Skagos which meant more warriors sooner. It would take a couple of days to get to Skane and back, so forty days to transport all the men and women.

This wouldn't do at all! Mance would catch up to them before all of them were gone! All those who could build boats would be the last to leave, they would continue to build more boats while they waited for the others to arrive at Skane and back. Fifty boats could take five hundred with ten people per boat, so fifty more would mean a thousand cutting down timings by half. That wasn't including the fact that they had ten thousand fucking men and women, fifty extra fucking boats were nothing!

"I want another two hundred bloody boats by the time those fuckers get back or I'll have the lot of you by the balls!"

This had received a few jeers and jokes from the women about not having balls but the general idea was conveyed.

With two hundred and fifty boats they could transport two thousand five hundred men and women at a time. Four to eight days to make those two hundred boats with around three thousand already across by then it would only take three more trips!

The time it would take had gone down from forty days to fourteen, two weeks. An acceptable time.

Any boats that weren't completed could be left for Mance to use when he started building to take the main force across.

In a month Tormund and his free folk would be feasting in the kneeler's halls! Better boats could be captured or built then, using the admittedly superior designs of the Southrons.

Although while all of this was incredible, what really occupied Tormund's mind was whether the mead tasted better in the South.

**Castle Black**

Lord Commander Jeor Mormont was worried, all the reports he was receiving spoke of abandoned wildling villages, activity in the Frostfangs and Hardhome.

None of that was good for the Night's Watch.

Queensgate and Long Barrow were now fully functional with garrisons of over five hundred men each. A thousand at Castle Black, five hundred at Eastwatch and another thousand at the Shadow Tower brought the Order's numbers up to nearly four thousand.

Icemark was already being rebuilt, with enough men to garrison it, although no wildlings had been spotted the wall was on high alert as wights had been spotted beyond the wall, with some still moving parts shown to all new members to ensure they realised what they were fighting against.

More ranger groups went out by the day with at least fifty men in each one, safety in numbers.

So far, the only thing that had been proven to kill wights was fire and Valryian steel. There were a few Valryian steel weapons on the wall, barely ten but one of the rangers had been equipped with one and had killed a wight with it.

The order had sent several messages to the citadel asking for more Maester's for all their new castles.

Of the three required positions, only two had been filled.

They had immediately been let it on the information and been shown proof before being told to research ways to kill wights.

The defences on the wall were being updated to include boiling mortar to deal with this new threat.

The Lord commander was almost tempted to ask the pyromancers guild for wildfire but held off for now.

**Winterfell**

Robb was to begin his tour of the North today, with his father rebuilding and improving Winterfell and Moat Caitlin other northern houses had taken this as a sign to do the same, he had been invited to stay in several keeps to see the construction in place of his father.

He would head to Deepwood Motte first, followed by Torrhen's Square, Barrow town, Flint's finger, Greywater Watch, Moat Caitlin, White Harbour, Old castle, Ramsgate, Widow's watch, Hornwood, The Dreadfort, Karhold and finally the Last Hearth before returning to Winterfell.

His mother had suggested finding a bride while on his travels and had only been stopped from coming when his father had told her he needed her to help Bran run Winterfell while he headed North to the wall.

He had been receiving more and more insistent almost demands from the old bear to show himself up at the wall, although he would be travelling with a retinue of two hundred guards as he did not trust the upwards of five hundred men he was directly or indirectly responsible for placing there.

**Talon**

They hadn't planned to come to the Basilisk Isles, Sothoryos was about as far South as you could reasonably get before you killed your navigator for incompetence.

In truth, it was a welcome break before they had to sail back to the disputed lands where they would undoubtedly have to fight many enemies.

In comparison, the Corsair kings and their ragtag group of pirates and slavers were easy pickings in the close confines of Barter Beach as the Company later learned it was called, a veritable slaughter zone.

Barely ten thousand inhabitants made for a small town but nothing special, lots of taverns, brothels, and bars.

A lot of slaves though, most women though.

Ser Jonnel wasn't interested in recruiting them and merely conveyed to the best of his abilities that they could have the island when they were gone.

Ships were repaired and restocked while the three thousand recruits from Elyria were trained without mercy in the fighting styles of the collected northern and Essosi warriors.

The Unsullied proved to be adept teachers as well as soldiers when it came to the spear and soon enough the recently freed slaves were forming into groups amongst themselves to work on smaller scale teamwork.

Jon was eager to find a weapon that would fit Bhalar, possibly a giant halberd or polearm, to see the true extent of the damage the man could dispense.

Levir was becoming a lot better with the spear, adding certain water dancing methods to his style while taking other methods from the Unsullied.

The original two and a half thousand northerners were trying to get to know their new comrades, some taking wives and husbands or lovers from the Elyrian slaves.

Ser Jonnel was eager to move on with the journey as the ruling families were waiting for them in Myr but he understood the importance of training their new recruits in case of attack, after all, once they arrived back there was a high chance they would be thrown straight back into the fighting.

Jon knew he would need a larger force if he was to take over Myr, a city of four hundred thousand, with a country population of around a million and so he was eager to get back to the disputed lands and begin working on more plans.

He would need to buy a map for sure, learn where best to recruit and where was easiest to free slaves and recruit them.

The Golden Company was now their biggest threat as far as Jon could tell, with their ten thousand men and battle elephants.

He would need to find a way to cripple them for a while as he built up his personal army.

A few dead pirates were still rotting hidden in alley's but most of the bodies were now food for the fish, the sunny beaches a nice change to the endless sea.

The ships were restocked and repaired too soon as the Company set sail again for Myr.

**Runestone**

Robin Arryn had always been a sickly boy, at least until he had been taken from his mother by force and fostered with Lord Royce.

Lord Yohn had stormed the Eyrie with the help of Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish when Lysa Arryn had refused to hand over her son on the orders of Lord Stark, Hand of the King.

Poor Robert was only six years old, but already being away from his mother's influence was doing him good.

Fewer fevers and fits occurred and the boy started to lose the pastiness of his skin, he was already a different boy with so much more energy.

Maester Helliweg was teaching him all he knew, and the young Lord Arryn had taken to his pony like a fish to water.

Jaime Lannister had been appointed warden of the East much to nearly everyone in the Vale's horror. They had taken to calling Robert the true warden of the East until a letter came from Stannis Baratheon declaring Robert to be Warden of the East and Lord Royce to be his regent.

The only visible change was Lysa Arryn's fit when she learned that she was not regent and the legendary tantrum she threw.

Really if anyone had the power, they would have sent her back to Hoster Tully in the Riverlands but alas they did not and so the Vale was stuck with the banshee lady.

Robin had not seen his mother since and deep sown even though he wouldn't admit it he was rather happy about that.

**Wolfswood**

Robb rode swiftly with his small retinue towards Deepwood Motte intent on reaching it in the next two days. It was one of the weakest strongholds in the North and the most in need of improvement.

They knew to expect him, within two to three days via raven sent from Winterfell a week before they set off.

It was hard riding in the dense foliage but possible and there was a certain beauty to the surroundings that resonated with Robb.

He could imagine a time, possibly after he had finished his tour when he would like to come back here and go exploring, maybe with Jon when they found him.

Nobody lived in the forest so when birds started flying away around fifty metres ahead of them it became clear they were not alone.

All fifteen men and their liege drew their castle forged swords in preparation.

Robb wasn't a prodigy with the sword, he had never killed a man, but he was good, better than most average guards and he was big for his age standing at 5"9 at fourteen years old.

It was a sudden attack; the Stark guards were not ready for it and the six attackers managed to unhorse and kill two of the group before the others could react.

Gripping his reins Robb cantered towards the biggest of the wildlings because that was what they were, and brought his sword down in a large arc, decapitating the man while he was distracted killing one of the unhorsed guards.

This spurred the rest of the retinue into attacking killing off four of the remaining ambushers.

The only wildling left was a woman who stood about a head taller than Robb, with wild untamed and most likely unwashed brown hair.

Holding his sword to her throat he questioned her,

"What is your name?"

"Osha, my lord." As if an afterthought adding his title.

"How are you and your companions past the wall?" He asked intently, searching her face for any signs of deceit.

"Stiv and Wallen," She said pointing at two bodies, "Night's Watch deserters, let us through one of the passages once I persuaded them."

Osha spoke the last part of her sentence with a wicked smile on her face that only grew when Robb gained a confused look before it dawned on him what she meant.

"Why would you come here?" He spoke curiously about her circumstances.

"The villages to the North of the wall are all being abandoned, it's either flee south or join Mance Rayder's army. We chose south." She explained.

It was at that point the young lord noticed a wriggling in her bosom before a reasonably large cub poked his face out.

His eyebrows raised immediately before he blushed after realising, he could see under her tunic now.

"What is that?" He questioned.

"A cub my Lord, found him south of the wall a few miles North of here, he might even be a direwolf cub." She replied truthfully.

As she was saying this the little creature escaped her tunic and launched itself right at the unsuspecting Robb.

Dropping his sword in surprise he caught the pup, surprised by its weight before bringing it closer to his chest.

It seemed to snuggle into him protectively before going still.

"I think he likes you, My lord." Joked one of the guards.

"Aye, I think I'll keep him, what do you say boy? I'll call you Grey Wind."

The pup looked up at the teenage boy with droopy ears and did its best impression of a smile.

"We'll get along fine you and I. Deal with her." Robb smiled at his new companion before motioning for the guards to finish her before he started riding again.

He'd killed his first man today, he didn't need someone tagging along and slowing down the group with their inferior riding skills, and that wasn't even counting the fact she and her friends were responsible for the death of two of his retinue.

Honour demanded blood for blood, an eye for an eye.

A couple of miles North in the wood, a small pack of Direwolves, one fully grown and the rest pups howled in recognition of the beginning of their pack members journey towards their destiny.

**Lys**

Jon wasn't particularly keen on the city, it seemed to only specialise in sex, something that became rather obsolete in his mind if you had nothing else to do.

He had originally decided that he would father no bastards so that they would not suffer as he did, and then he had realised something else.

Who gave a fuck what other people thought? If he had children, they would be Snow's and damn well proud of it! He could beat any pompous prat with a pretentious name any day! What made having a name so special anyway?

That didn't mean he was going to go out of his way to father bastards though, in fact, he was still a virgin and reckoned unless he found a girl interesting enough, he would be for some time.

He was only fourteen for God's sake!

Although his friend's Levir and Bhalar thought differently, one was born in the Summer islands were random sex was normal and the other was a sex pest so really it was to be expected.

They had landed in Lys with six thousand five hundred men and around a thousand women, most of whom had immediately dispersed to go and find a brothel or tavern.

A week later now and somehow, they had two hundred extra people, curious indeed. of that two hundred around half were freed slaves looking for work, the rest were other men and women who had become infatuated with the members of the company in the short time they had been in Lys.

It was weird, who knew a northern accent could pull? At the rate, they were multiplying a lot of the future generations of the Greenwood family were going to have distinctly Valyrian features mixed in.

The Greenwood brothers had become quite attached to a trio of lesser Lys noblewomen who they had met in one of the higher-class tea rooms, who knew the Greenwoods could act civilised?

The things they did for women! It truly surpassed all normalcy and logic.

Much to Ser Jonnel's amusement and Jon's horror a rumour of his virginity was spread around the whore houses and some of the lovely women had started a betting pool to see who could take it.

Jon had spent a lot of time hiding on the boats since he learned of this and had dedicated his attention to planning his next move, one that wasn't necessarily the same as the Company of the Rose.

He would at least join them on their campaigning in the disputed lands until they reached Myr and he could talk with Magister Anadaren Baerely.

It had been close to ten months since he escaped his shackles and the Targaryen's, soon it would be a year, maybe then he would consider sending a message to his father and brother.

The latest news was important to any commander and even though Jon wasn't officially in charge he knew he needed to keep up with current affairs.

Lord Stark had resigned as Hand of the King, the latest news to reach as far as Lys, something that shocked Jon as he hadn't even known that his father was Hand of the King.

Peytr Baelish, Master of Coin to King Robert I Baratheon had been arrested for treason but had escaped to Essos and had a bounty of ten thousand gold dragons on his head, a price that grew daily.

Something that concerned him was the attack on Valysar by Daenerys and her horse fucking husband.

Forty thousand Dothraki was nothing to sneer at, especially on open plains like the disputed lands, although there were many ways to cripple their effectiveness, such as traps like caltrops and pits with stakes.

So, Jon had taken some of the large amounts of wealth stolen from Elyria and ordered all the smiths in the city to begin forging the dangerously sharp little objects. Better safe than sorry, perhaps that should be his personal motto? No something more bull-headed suited him, it was just a matter of finding it.

As they boarded and left dock most men looked back wistfully recalling their now fond memories of the city and more likely its women.

Jon and his two closest companions instead looked forward towards the future and what it may bring.

**The lands of Myr**

Two Dornishmen rode swiftly towards the city to start their investigation into the whereabouts of their target.

They had originally hoped to be back in Dorne before the end of the year but that seemed like a distant dream now and all they could hope was Jon Snow made haste in his journey for the free city.

Behind them followed the Brave Companions led by the Sand Snakes in the pursuit of their prey.

**The Orange shores**

Daenerys baby bump was now easily visible to any who dared to look under Drogo's glare as they rode towards the Disputed lands with all haste.

Illyrio had told her of Jon Snow being sighted heading into the Disputed lands and the last Targaryen was eager to start her conquest for the Iron throne with the death of her brother's murderer.

She knew by now that Drogo didn't really care about justice so she had persuaded him to ride for Myr saying it would be the perfect place to sack or threaten into handing over ships and wealth.

Magister Illyria had been most helpful in providing information on the bastard who now was apparently high up in a sellsword company that originated from the North.

According to the latest reports, the Company had gone from two thousand five hundred men to nearly six thousand as far as the Magisters scouts could tell, Daenerys hadn't paid much attention, she had forty thousand warriors and Drogo to lead them, even if they had half her number she would not have been worried. Everyone knew numbers won battles!

She was a little worried about Ser Jorah though, ever since the attempt on her life he had been staring at Westeros with a weird look in his eyes. She had decided to chalk it down to him being protective of her and not wanting any more threats to come for her, which she thought was sweet.

A few villages had been burnt to the ground as they made their way West but the protection fee from Volantis had mostly satisfied the Khalasars more rowdy members.

The women she had saved were proving to be incredibly useful as spies around the camp and to help her get a feel for the mood of the Dothraki riders.

She couldn't help but feel a little paranoid after learning of the death of Khal Moro at the hands of a Lhazareen witch who he had captured.

It just went to show you couldn't trust anyone without guarantees in the form of blood, family, or marriage.

**The Disputed Lands**

The scouts spotted them at first light, a half thousand strong and marching in the direction of Tyrosh. Their banner denoted them as the Gallant men, a reasonably unknown Company of Sellswords who fought for Lys and Tyrosh.

A perfect target for practice, the newest recruits needed to be blooded properly in organised battle.

"Phalanx formation! Prepare to engage! Archers knock and ready!" Ser Jonnel commanded, "Jon take charge of the left flank, Arthur takes the right and I'll command the centre."

The eldest Greenwood brother nodded and rode off to assume his position.

Jon nodded at his commander and started shouting as Jonnel disappeared.

"Stand ready to repulse, archers, release on my command!"

The Gallant men realised they needed to break the line to make it through and it soon became clear that everyone had seen Jon riding behind his troops. A fourteen-year-old commander seemed like a much easier target than the elder men such as Arthur and Ser Jonnel, and the apparent leader of the sellswords noticed this. He stood at six feet and six inches, most of it muscle. He had a hook nose, bushy eyebrows, and a triangular brown beard. Most importantly he looked big and nasty and was headed right at Jon and his flank.

"Steady, steady and RELEASE!" Jon roared and death came raining down from the heavens decimating the unprepared sellswords. Men died in front of his eyes as quickly as his archers could notch arrows and release them.

"FORWARD!" Jon cried out for all his men to hear straining his vocal cords as the phalanx formations advanced spears bristling stabbing anything that still moved.

The apparent leader was still standing, with an arrow in his side and a sword in hand.

"COME ON YOU BASTARDS! FACE ME LIKE MEN!" The large man challenged.

Jon motioned one of the archers to ride up next to him.

"Give me your bow and a couple of arrows." The man nodded and handed over his weapon and quiver. Positioning it correctly, strung and ready he rode through the now parted ranks.

"Good Ser! I would know your name before you die." Jon called out.

"I'm Ser Osmund Kettleback and I'm the last person you're ever going to see." He snarled charging forward.

As the hedge knight made to attack Jon knocked the first arrow and released hitting him in the shoulder. It barely slowed the man down as he seemed to grow beserk. Just as Ser Osmund was about to cleave into him Jon released the second and final arrow point blank into the knight throwing him away with force of the blow.

"You are nothing, your title is nothing and I feel ashamed to had to have killed you." Jon declared spitting on his corpse.

"I'll kiiiiilllll you bastard!" The knight whispered from where he lay just loud enough for Jon to hear.

"You are a bug aren't you, a very big one but a bug all the same. Just die already!" Jon cried out in disbelief before drawing his sword and lopping the man' s head off.

Around them, the rest of the Company was eliminating the survivors, taking one in thirty prisoners to spread the news of their victory.

"This was disappointingly easy Bhalar," Jon whined, "I want a real fight!"

The giant man laughed at his young friend,

"Most people usually want an easier fight. Only you Jon, only you." Levir responded from behind him.

"Whatever let's just loot these fools and get out of here!" Jon groaned.

It didn't take long, the enemy sellswords seemed to have been down on their luck and the only good thing to come of the battle was the newest recruits found some better armour.

The Company moved on quickly letting the sixteen survivors go loose to spread the news of their defeat in Tyrosh and Lys as they headed to Myr.

**Volantis**

In the large temple to R'hllor, the devoted priestess Melisandre waited for a vision from her god.

As she stared into the flames, she saw Essos appear outlined in the flames, it soon became clear that it was a vision of the future as she saw herself portrayed as a devoted heart of flame travelling to Dragonstone. The disputed lands, however, worried her, they appeared to be covered in snow that was only growing. A sure sign of the Others! She had never misinterpreted a vision yet. Stags still ruled; wolves still howled but the darkness in the far North was becoming stronger at an alarming rate.

"Please mighty Lord of Light! Show me Azor Ahai reborn!" she cried out into the night.

All she was shown was an all-consuming snowstorm,

"Why my God! Why do you taunt me so? I know the Others are coming! You must show me the way."

Still, nothing changed, and Melisandre resolved to follow the path the Lord of Light had shown her, Dragonstone was her next destination.

**Skagos**

Three thousand armoured knights and men, as mighty a force as the island lords could muster lay dead in the fields surrounding the strongholds.

They were no match for the desperate wildings and were outmatched and outmanoeuvred.

Lord Magnar's body was in a ditch along with his sons as well as Lord Crowl and Lord Stane. Their wives and daughters now lovers or wives of Tormund's sons and men.

True to his promise to himself Tormund was indeed feasting and drinking in Stane hall awaiting news of the first ships to be built for long sea voyages.

The captured shipwrights had been encouraged to ensure the ships were safe with promises of taking them along in case they sunk and promises of freedom for any who cooperated.

Mance had arrived at Hardhome with the rest of the host and was busy building boats while the elderly and children were transported with what boats they had over to Skagos and Tormund's care.

Val and Jarl her lover was some of the first to arrive with orders from Mance to send back the two hundred and fifty boats to help collect the remaining hundred thousand free folks.

Much to Jarl and the fat fool that was Tormund's amusement Val had been incredibly critical of the buildings on the island and had only entered Stane Hall after Jarl had dragged her in.

Mance had a team of ten thousand men and women dragging wood for shipbuilding from the Haunted forest and was even sending some on ahead for the already settled Free folk to use for the larger seafaring ships.

With twenty thousand people dedicated entirely to shipbuilding, motivated by a love for life and a need to escape White walkers' ships were being churned out at an incredible rate.

As Mance started to get a reasonable chunk of his group across the water even more Free folk tribes began to appear on the horizon, and most importantly giants! Nearly twenty of them all with mammoths.

That had required some ingenious building to create ships able to hold the immense beings and their rides.

However, Mance was glad to have them they would provide invaluable help in transporting wood.

Hardhome would continue to be fortified so it looked to any outsider that all the wood was being used for defences and if they were attacked or another tribe came when they were gone the fortifications would be invaluable.

**Castle Black**

All rangers were reporting massive activity at Hardhome on an almost terrifying scale.

From what Lord Commander Mormont could gather Mance had retreated with his massive host behind his new walls and appeared to be building a city inside with the amount of wood that was being transported from the Haunted Forest.

Benjen had yet to turn up, and even with the continued rejuvenation of the Night's Watch Jeor knew they were not ready.

Which was why he was talking to Lord Stark in his chambers.

"Lord Stark, I served you faithfully for many a year just as I served your father, so I implore you to listen to me. I have proof that the Others are returning! Not to mention the wildlings appear to be building a city at Hardhome."

Ned looked the old bear over searching for any signs of madness or jokes.

"Show me."

"I thought you would ask. Samwell! Bring in the head would you please." He motioned for his steward to fetch a cage.

"Freshly caught for this exact purpose." The Lord Commander explained as he whipped the cloth covering the cage off.

Ned was faced with a rotten head which was most definitely dead, and then it opened its eyes.

A deep blue, bluer than anything he was comfortable with, and then it started snarling and chewing at the cage.

Recovering Lord Stark composed himself and made his decision.

"If what you are saying is true, and it does appear to be so I will need to start consulting my Lords immediately. Could you have Wight parts sent to all the major keeps?" He questioned.

The old bear nodded, and Ned's face turned grim.

"I'll quadruple the food production for Winter and ask Robert to send all off Flea Bottom for you to train, I know it isn't ideal but if armed correctly with this dragonglass you speak off they should be fine after a little training. Indeed, Robert may very well be able to burn Flea bottom to the ground and rebuild. I'll have builders and men sent who as well are more professional."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"No thank you Jeor, I must ride for Winterfell with all haste in order to begin preparations." With that, he turned and strode out ready to start the ride immediately.

**King's Landing**

"Stannis, I leave for Storm's End immediately! I need to be at home for a while. Renly won't mind and you can rule in my stead." Robert declared.

Most Hand's such as Ned or Jon Arryn would have advised against this, but Stannis knew his brother was spontaneous and under constant threat here and the best thing to do would be to get him out of here.

"Of course, Robert I shall arrange it immediately."

When Cersei learned of this, she was incredibly irritated, how was she meant to assassinate him if he was surrounded by loyal Baratheon men? It was bad enough here in King's Landing with all his new men loyal only to him, it would be nigh impossible at Storm's End! Worst of all Jaime was going with him and still refused to sleep with her! At this rate, she was going to have to start sleeping with Lancel.

It just wouldn't do.

**Pentos**

Peytr Baelish was not anywhere near as rich as he used to be, but being a successful merchant had done well for him. He had a few loyal guards and even more schemes.

So, when Magister Illyrio introduced him to Young Griff with the promise of riches and fame, it was not hard to realise who he really was.

"Your Grace, it is my utmost pleasure to meet you. I look forward to serving you and helping you regain your throne."

Aegon VI Targaryen looked down on the slippery man before him, "So do I Lord Baelish, so do I."

**Myr **

The Brave Companions found quarters in the city easily enough not too far from the two Dornish knights and began their wait after all Patience was a virtue.

**Ny Sar**

Bronn's Bastards were resting after an eventful and tactical retreat after learning of Khal Drogo's khalasar and many were glad of it.

Especially after learning of the destruction of the Gallant men a company of similar size to their own by the Company of the Rose.

Many smaller sellsword groups were fleeing the disputed lands with all the imminent threats headed towards them or already there, whether it be the Golden Company, The Company of the Rose, or Khal Drogo's khalasar.

**Volantis**

She was ready to begin her escape; the plan began when the guard she had wrapped around her little finger came on duty.

She invited him out on a walk of the Black walls like usual, acting as if everything was normal, stroking his arm reassuringly.

Then she dragged him into a dark alcove and kissed him.

The couple moved on until they passed the steepest part of the wall as her guard began to feel dizzy. She pushed him over the wall and kept walking as if nothing had happened, the fall so far, his screams and consequent splat unintelligible to the average human ear.

The poison on her lips worked quickly, causing the normally stable guard to become an easy target.

Free for now she knew it wouldn't last long if she didn't hurry, she had ten minutes before she was expected back at the manse.

Ten minutes to duck into the labyrinth she had been wondering since she was a little girl. She counted the seconds appearing again at the bottom of the walls just as the patrol passed by.

She slipped away towards the docks, the pouch at her side growing nearly as heavy as the dagger strapped to the inside of her thigh.

She stole a cowl and shawl from a washing line and covered herself before wandering through the bustling market making good time towards the ship.

Suddenly a hand grabbed her from behind and ripped the cowl from her head. The large man picked her up and carried her back to the manse.

Dumping her on a chair he left the room leaving her alone with a man.

"That is the third guard you have killed in your misguided escape attempts this year alone! Really my dear could you not just allow yourself my hospitality." Alios Qhaedar asked.

"Never! I'm nothing more than a prize for you and your friends." She growled.

"Oh Princess, you really must control yourself." The man said with a sigh.

She lunged forward dagger drawn thrusting it into his chest before he could scream.

"My name is Rhaenys bastard. Rhaenys!" She whispered before she jumped out of the window and into the night.

**I know she is basically OC, but she is an interesting character and one I look forward to writing.**

**Next chapter is the end of 298 AC, and the confrontation between the Dothraki and Jon.**

**Anyone know any good fanfictions to read? I'm bored and all the ones I am currently reading haven't updated yet.**


	5. The Disputed Lands

**298 AC**

**The Disputed Lands near Myr**

They were coming, a massive Khalasar of forty thousand screaming berserkers. Jon swore to himself if he survived this the first thing he would do was go back to Westeros. He refused to die and allow that Tully bitch to get away with banishing him, he was certain she knew full well he would end up in slavery and die.

She was undeserving of the Stark name and the first thing he would do when he had his homecoming would be to try and strip her of it.

Lord Stark would agree once he learnt how many crimes she had committed.

No bloody horsefuckers were going to stop him from that piece of revenge, even if he had to kill all of them by himself. Daenerys had seemed like a nice girl when he met her at the Magister's manse, he just wished she would take her husband's view and not give a shit about him killing the Beggar King. Seriously the little whiny bitch abuses her and when he dies her first reaction isn't celebration but anger? Something was wrong with that girl.

If it boiled down to it, he reckoned he would just kill Drogo and send her back to the Dosh Khaleen. Maybe being a weird horse god hermit would knock some sense into her? Meh, probably not.

They were so close to Myr it hurt, but Ser Jonnel had informed him of the city's well-known tendency to surrender people to the Dothraki if it suited them.

Instead, they were a few miles away from the city and the two saltwater lakes, and Jon was beginning his cunning plans.

The caltrops were a vital part of the plan along with the spades he had bought, but for the first time in what Jon reckoned was military history women were the most important part of the plan.

Without a large number of women who knew how to sew his plan would have had a much larger chance of failing.

He had six thousand men dig six pits around a large circular area, using the earth they dug up to build an elevated platform in the centre of the protected land outwards.

He planned to build his own hill, high ground to defend against the enemy, surrounded by pits full of stakes to kill the cavalry. There would be six entrances past the pits, three men, abreast which he would have covered in the caltrops he had commissioned from Lys.

When the Dothraki realised they could not charge straight on they would head for these seemingly safe paths thinking it was only a play to make it easier for a smaller number of people to defend against the massive force.

Jon very much doubted they would be expecting metal spikes to penetrate their horse's feet.

If his plan didn't work well, he had a thousand Unsullied who could hold each pathway with fifty-five lines, three wides in each one in all six entrances.

The former slave soldiers were famous for fighting Dothraki and winning, he was betting on those odds.

He would keep the other five thousand five hundred men in support to be sent where needed.

Ser Jonnel had agreed to hand over complete command of the company for the duration of the fight, which made Jon feel proud that the old man trusted him to see them safely through.

He would not disappoint, he had too much to do and see, he was still a bloody virgin, no way was he going down before trying the carnal pleasures the world had to offer.

The only major problem with Jon's problem was the lack of wood, something Magister Baerley fixed upon learning his plan, a useful ally indeed. It was very convenient that so many wood merchants passed by them on the way to Myr, all happy to unload their cargo for dirt cheap prices.

The end of the year was coming, and it would be the deciding factor for Jon's fate too.

**The Disputed Lands**

The saltwater lakes had been sighted by the scouts, they were closing in on Myr as quickly as they could, although the women and slaves slowed them down as they had no horses.

A lust for blood was in the air around the horde, they knew their need for violence would be sated soon.

Khal Drogo may not have cared particularly whether Jon Snow was punished for the death Viserys but he knew that if he wanted to retain a hold on his Khalasar he need to give them something to attack, and what better than the one thing his wife seemed to hate nearly as much as the man she called usurper.

His child was due any day now, the stallion that mounts the world, and he hoped the prophecy came true.

The northern knight who served his wife seemed to be getting a little too close, perhaps when they found this bastard, he would tragically die fighting in her honour. Better than being killed for sleeping with his wife, as he couldn't be sure Daenerys would say no to him as they seemed incredibly close.

He was having bad thoughts about his own wife; it was a sign from the gods that this knight had to go.

**King's Landing**

The small council convened to decide on how to reply to the proposal made by Lord Stark. Cersei had invited herself and had many, many opinions.

"Lord Stark asks we send the whole of Flea Bottom to the North, most likely for the wall. He believes now that the crown is no longer in heavy debt it should be able to rebuild the slum once it is burned down and sell the houses afterwards." Stannis announced.

Cersei immediately gave her input, "At least the man knows his kingdom is a place for thieves and beggars, send them all as he wishes, we can rebuild Flea Bottom in my image!"

The Hand of the King didn't care what happened to Flea Bottom, so he nodded in agreement after all Lord Stark had asked for this.

Aurane Waters, bastard of Driftmark, was the new Master of Ships and had been appointed by Stannis as a trustworthy man for the position. He gave his approval after seeing his liege lord do the same.

Lord Orton Merryweather, Lord of Longtable, was the new Master of Coin, he held no loyalty to anyone except the crown, a good choice who agreed because he saw no reason to disagree.

Renly agreed as well; Master of Laws didn't really need to be involved but he was required to attend.

Pycelle was still somehow alive much to Stannis's annoyance, as Grand Maester he held a seat on the council. He would die soon.

Varys was Master of Whisperers, and the man Stannis was most wary of on the council.

With an overwhelming decision to clear and destroy Flea Bottom, the council called for Lord Beric Dondarrion and Ser Garlan Tyrell.

"Lord Dondarrion, Ser Garlan and you are to gather everyone in Flea Bottom and direct them to the docks where boats provided by the Master of Ships will take them to White Harbour. Then you are to tear down Flea Bottom and burn anything that remains. No building is to be left untouched." Stannis ordered.

"My Lords, your grace, it shall be done." Both men bowed and left to set the city on fire.

With Robert at Storm's End, it was up to Stannis to keep the kingdoms running and to deal with House Lannister. Ser Barristan and Ser Boros Blunt were with the King leaving Ser Jaime and his twin in King's Landing ripe for the picking.

**Hardhome**

Forty thousand men and women remained including ten giants remained at Hardhome, all were fighters with the weakest members of the group being sent over at the earliest.

Mance knew the men at Eastwatch were becoming increasingly aware of activity at sea, and the Others were moving ever southwards.

It was important that they make as many journeys as possible before the Night's Watch sent out their new ships to patrol the Bay of Seals.

The biggest armada in free folk history no resided in Hardhome's natural harbour, a thousand ships able to carry ten men each and a few special rafts created just to carry the Giants. The rafts were attached to several other boats so that as they rowed pulling along the mammoths and giants.

The walls of the town were now ten men tall and seven inches thick to hold back the dead and any scouts from the crows.

It was now impossible for the free folk to take the wall as it had been rebuilt with better defences and more recruits, although that was a good thing as that meant once the free folk had escaped to the other side, they would be safer.

Dalla and Mance would be able to start a life for themselves without the fear of evil magic and their children would be born into a place protected from ice demons.

Ten thousand more men and spear wives left for Skagos today to further reinforce Tormund and take over the kneeler's castles.

Mance would stay until the end, he was their leader and had to set an example.

**Skagos**

Tormund was still feasting regularly but now he was having to focus on procuring food for the thousands of men, women, and children under his command. Val was in charge of directing the children and elderly in how to make clothes for the south and Jarl and a few hundred other men had volunteered to learn how to make iron swords to replace their inferior bronze ones.

The captured Blacksmiths were working day and night to produce enough weapons for the army.

They had found deposits of what the locals called dragon glass, something the southerners bought because it looked pretty, and Jarl had fashioned a knife of it for Val.

**Storm's End**

Robert staggered forward, the log on his shoulders sinking into the skin on his neck as he passed the entrance to the training yard for the forty-ninth time. "One more to go." He grunted to himself.

Pushing on he continued his steady plod sweating heavily in the sun as its rays beat heavily down upon him.

One, two, one, two, one, two reverberated around the King's mind as he lifted each leg and placed it down again.

Heaving the log that was just as tall as him and half as thick he threw it as far as he could collapsing to the ground and breathing heavily.

"Lancel!" He roared, between breaths.

The blonde ponce ran quickly with a gourd of wine,

"Fuck off you idiot! I want to have clean water! WATER!" The King berated his squire, "What are you trying to do? Kill me with wine?" He mentioned the last part beneath his breath as he contemplated it watching the boy run off again.

Ser Balon Swann and Ser Barristan Selmy came back with the Lannister boy.

"Ready for our spar your grace?" His Lord Commander asked.

"Give me a second to catch my breath Sers and I will be with you in a minute," Robert replied still breathing heavily.

Feeling rested enough he pulled himself up and grabbing an undercoat from his squire and an iron plate to place over it.

Picking up a blunted training hammer he grinned at the two knights who unsheathed their own blunted blades.

Ser Barristan attacked the King first, lunging forward his blade thrusting upwards towards his opponents still reasonable girth.

Robert evaded the blow before attempting to bring his hammer down on the Lord Commander's sword, before turning the hammer to the side halfway through the swing in an incredible feat of strength.

Ser Barristan, true to his position as one of the finest swords in the realm, dodged the unexpected blow without registering any surprise on his face.

Crouching low Ser Barristan noted the heavy breathing of his opponent, who was still tired from exercising.

Nipping forward he swung his sword at the King's legs to destabilize him.

Robert saw the knight start swinging, charging in response his larger bulk crashed into the kingsguard and sent him to the ground.

Accepting his liege lord's hand, he praised the man,

"I may be skilled with the sword, but your strength could probably match the infamous Ser Gregor Clegane once you reach your peak again."

Robert turned red at the compliment, it was true he had always been immensely strong, even as a boy and the sudden charge and use of it had been the only thing that allowed him to defeat the legendary knight.

"Aye, and I pity the man foolish enough to challenge you to a sword fight. You put the kingslayer to shame. Perhaps you should take a squire again?" he replied.

The old knight shrugged and motioned for the other knight to come forward.

"Alright Ser Balon, impress me." The Demon of the Trident roared.

**The Disputed Lands**

Jon sat on his horse watching the growing dust cloud gradually coming closer from the direction of Volantis through a Myrish spyglass.

It was convenient to have its base in the city where they were easy and reasonably cheap to buy.

"Your friends seem eager Jon," Bhalar said with a smile.

He stood next to Jon watching the incoming force, all seven and a bit foot in armour and a double-edged axe the size of Jon strapped to his back.

"They have a woman controlling their leader descended from a long line of madmen and women. Too much fucking incest. Would it have killed them to marry others occasionally?" Jon said with an exasperated sigh.

"More to kill I see," Levir said riding up to them, "They're calling this Snow hill now. Let's hope it isn't stained with our blood."

"Optimistic as always I see," Ser Jonnel said with a grin joining the rapidly growing group. He was followed by the Greenwood family and Ser Cley Dustin. It was not more than a couple of minutes when some Unsullied officers appeared.

"I suppose I should go over my plan now," Jon said looking over the assembled leaders of the army.

The Greenwood patriarch snorted at that,

"A little late for us to give any input lad, but let's hear what we're staking our lives on."

Jon nodded and began to explain what everyone was to do.

"Black Fist, the Unsullied are to be prepared into six groups of 166, they are not to assume their defensive positions until the Dothraki have committed to their first charge. We don't want to give anything away." He ordered the Unsullied officer.

"Ser Jonnel you will take command of the veteran fighters, two and a half thousand men, and reinforce the positions behind the pits with pikes and spears in case the Dothraki try to jump them and somehow succeed, kill any who survive the fall into the pits as well," Jon explained to the older Northern knight.

"Lord Anthor, I would ask you and your sons to join Ser Jonnel until such time as you are needed elsewhere. Bhalar I would like you to stay with me and command the freed slaves. Levir you are to take control of the archers when the horsefuckers charge, I want you to release a few arrows to ensure they don't have time to wonder if it is a trap." Jon finished; the rest of the plan was fairly obvious.

"I wish you all luck and I hope you survive." Ser Jonnel said jovially riding off to take command of his original Company.

The Greenwood family expressed the same sentiments before following Ser Jonnel, soon joined by the Unsullied commanders and Levir.

"Come, Jon! Let us drink before we die!" Bhalar suggested to Jon who couldn't really disagree.

**The Dothraki Khalasar**

"They are ahead!" Ser Jorah informed Khal Drogo and Daenerys.

"They appear to have built an artificial hill to defend from high ground." Khal Drogo noted in his heavily accented broken Westerosi, "No matter, I will lead the charge and we will break them, we are many they look like none."

Daenerys felt herself grow excited, her husband would be killing thousands of men for her, and one of them would be her brother's murderer.

"My Khal, are you sure it would be a good idea to be in the first charge? Perhaps you should wait until the second one." Ser Jorah cautioned.

Khal Drogo knew immediately the man wanted him to appear weak in front of his horde so that his position was threatened.

"Perhaps you would like to take my place?" He asked with a hidden edge to his voice.

"If it means you will stay here I would gladly do so." Ser Jorah said, looking at Daenerys, who instead of being happy that her husband would be safe was annoyed that he wouldn't be able to kill Jon first-hand.

'Very well, I will let him go and hope he dies.'

"Ser Jorah you will take command of the first charge; you will have ten thousand men and then I will attack with the second wave." Khal Drogo decided.

His wife looked a little putout, whether it was because he wasn't in a position of power or because it meant a lower chance of him dying, he wasn't sure, in fact, he wasn't sure of anything to do with her anymore. He really needed to kill the bloody Westerosi knight.

"Khaleesi I shall see you when your enemies are dead." Ser Jorah said with a half-bow and then rode off to take command of Drogo's warriors.

"They will all die today!" The last Targaryen hissed still glaring at the hill in the distance.

**JON SNOW POV**

We weren't sent any demands or given a chance to surrender, the only signal we got of the incoming attack was the screaming.

It was a terrible sound, one that could be heard for miles around, all the way to Myr.

The smell of sweat was heavy in the midday sun as I looked over the assembled sellsword company that I had helped build almost single-handedly from nearly nothing to an incredible fighting force.

Not many people could say they orchestrated the sack of a city, even if it was a small one.

I held no weapons, my two longswords still strapped to my back and my falchion in its sheath at my stallions' side.

The fighting would occur below, should I have to fight it would mean we had either won and were routing them or something had gone terribly wrong with my plan.

Dothraki steeds and screamers were now visible, no longer hidden by smoke, their ridiculous ponytails flapping in the wind as I watched through my spyglass.

Khal Drogo was missing, had we found the wrong Khalasar? The attacking force had nowhere near forty thousand warriors.

Had something gone happened to the Horse Lord? Wait, was that a Westerosi man leading the charge? Fuck! Ser Jorah fucking Mormont! Why in the name of the gods was this idiot in command?

"Levir! Khal Drogo isn't here! We have to kill all the attackers! We need to draw him out otherwise we'll have to actually kill the entire fucking Khalasar! Pass the message along, the first man to kill Khal Drogo gets ten thousand gold dragons!" I roared at my friend who nodded in response as Bhalar joined his voice with ours shouting orders along the line.

That stupid knight was going to ruin my trap! There go my hopes of a quick battle.

I could see the enemy without my spyglass now, in fact, I could smell them, they reeked of sheep and horse shit, did these fuckers ever even wash?

The ground was rumbling now with the repetitive thump of the horse's hooves as they grew ever closer, impending death waiting to claim them all.

Levir shouted for the archers to knock, I could hear them drawing back the strings and then with a resounding twang a thousand archers released their arrows into the oncoming horde. I saw a few hundred horses and men fall but the overwhelming force pushed on determined to reach us and cut us down.

"Dothraki Khalasar meet my pit. My pit says hello." I whispered with a grim smile as I watched them ride straight over the pits covered in grass sewn together. The grass gave in and I was treated first-hand to what happens when an unstoppable force changes direction unexpectedly.

The first few hundred or so riders fell straight into the pit impaling themselves on the stakes below, the riders behind them tried to stop but were pushed in by the rest of their considerable force. The riders at the back were moving very fast and could not see what was happening in front.

They kept moving forward pushing even more of their fellow screamers into the dangerous pits. It gave a whole new meaning to the term screamer for the Dothraki. Every time a horse or a warrior was impaled a sharp high-pitched scream could be heard as they watched themselves start to bleed; they might have survived too if not for the fact their fellow warriors crushed them as they too followed to their deaths.

"We should have dug deeper pits." I mused out loud.

"Indeed, my friend. But the fun is not over yet." Bhalar replied.

Barely a tenth of the original force had survived, and they appeared to have realised there were pathways through the pits.

Seemingly finding new strength they charged again, being cut down by archers as they rode down the narrow pathways, two or three men abreast.

Then they met the caltrops, horses keeled over in pain, creating makeshift barricades, and forcing the rest of the men to jump over them.

Only to be met by Unsullied in their element, close quarters fighting with long spears and shields with evenly matched numbers.

I could only watch as the remaining thousand Dothraki quickly turned to hundreds and then tens.

"Leave nonalive! Don't let them ride back to the Khalasar and inform them of what happened." I shouted at the archers who began picking off any remaining survivors.

We now had a veritable wall of bodies surrounding us, and we held the high ground.

"We were lucky none of them thought to bring bows. Have the reserve form a shield wall to protect us." I ordered Bhalar.

We may have killed nearly a quarter of their fighting force, but they still outnumbered us five to one.

Was the northern knight still alive? Taking out my spyglass I looked around, finding nothing except dead or dying Dothraki men.

Probably at the bottom of one of the pits I guess, shouldn't have led the charge.

**KHAL DROGO POV**

I heard before I saw as my men start screaming, they were too far away to see accurately. More and more of my riders seemed to fall before the smaller force as they continued to charge.

'What is happening?' I thought curiously, had Ser Jorah died? Then Jon Snow had served his purpose.

"Scouts forward!" I roared in my mother tongue as I called for the fastest of my riders to go and observe what was happening.

Nearly all of my men were dead now! Lying in piles of carnage, dead horses and men creating makeshift walls. What the fuck had happened?

I stole a look at my wife wondering what her reaction would be. She looked worried, whether it was because Jon Snow was doing well or because Ser Jorah was probably dead, I didn't know.

"It's time," I called out, motioning for my remaining thirty thousand warriors to ready themselves.

"Moon of my life, I will crush this Jon Snow for you. He will be helpless against my overwhelming strength and when I bring you his head, we make love under the stars!" I declared to her. With the Westerosi man gone she was mine and mine alone.

I kissed her possessively before kicking my heels and cantering off, my blood sworn riders joining me, and then my horde's full might gathering behind me for one massive charge that would break the enemy.

As I rode toward the bloody hill, I heard my wife call for her handmaidens, without much time to think about what it could mean I continued on to battle.

**JON SNOW POV**

I could see Lord Horsefucker himself leading the next charge and a LOT of Dothraki screamers. In the tens of thousands. Assuming we killed around a quarter of his force there would be around thirty thousand men charging at us. Even I could tell we weren't going to get through this without heavy losses.

Levir was watching almost eagerly as the horde approached. I drew my falchion in preparation, there was very little chance of me getting through this without fighting for my life.

I grabbed a buckler to cover myself as I fought and returned to watching the oncoming enemy intently.

"Fuck that's a lot of men," I whispered.

Bhalar saw my lips move and read them, patting my back reassuringly.

"Worry not little friend, I will carve through swathes of them so you will not be threatened. "

I smiled at him or at least attempted to before it turned into a frown as I realised the thud of hooves had reached its peak.

"Ready yourself my friend, I hope to see you after it is over," I warned.

He nodded and unslung his massive axe.

There was a resounding crash as Khal Drogo and his warriors leapt over their fallen and attacked the Unsullied. I could see Black Fist calling for ranks to form up and defend as he successfully unhorsed and killed one of the many Dothraki to break through. The pits provided little respite as the Dothraki attempted to leap them, most were knocked down into the pit by Ser Jonnel and his pike men.

"We're surrounded, our only hope is to kill Drogo." I roared over the loud sounds of battle.

I sheathed my falchion and looked around with my spyglass for the Khal.

He wasn't near one of the entrances, or on the outside of my defended perimeter, there! The horsefucker himself. He was riding along the sides attacking Ser Jonnel's men as they defended the pits.

"Bhalar call for a charge! We will end this now!" I shouted at the man next to me. I didn't look back, but I heard the whinny of horses readying themselves. I had two thousand cavalrymen to fight off thirty thousand, a piece of cake if I picked the right spot.

Tucking my spyglass away I grabbed a spear from one of many stuck in the ground and looking around waited till everyone looked ready.

"**THESE MEN ARE SLAVERS AND RAPISTS; THEY DIE TODAY IN THE NAME OF FREEDOM!**" I proclaimed loudly across the battlefield to the free slaves, incensing them against an enemy will always give them more to fight for.

Bhalar had control of the remaining five hundred infantry who weren't already fighting. He would hold back until he saw a chance to change the tide.

"**ONWARDS**!" I heard, more than I felt myself roar before I kicked my chargers' flanks and led my force to converge on the Khal and his blood riders.

**KHAL DROGO POV**

Until now we had been successful, the pits were easy to avoid once you knew where they were, and the caltrops were covered by the dead bodies of our fallen warriors from the first charge. The Unsullied had been prepared for our charge, but even their spears and skill could not hope to hold back the savage force of my horde.

My blood riders rode with me as I cut down several knights in armour, what use was their iron body suit if their head was still flesh.

I could see the battle turning in our favour easily as our numbers advantage, although dulled by the traps and thin pathways began to show. For every Dothraki screamer that was cut down three more popped up.

However, I was only fighting three thousand men, there were many further up the hill, where the coward Jon Snow cowered.

I would lop his pretty head of his shoulders and present it to my wife in honour of our son.

"Kisha tikh kill jin mithri ki these scum akka begin kishi ascent tat kill jin akkelenak!"** (We will kill the rest of these scum and begin our ascent to kill the leader)**

Then the rumbling began, it started at the top of the hill and grew as the Westerosi coward appeared over the crest leading arrowhead formation of cavalry.

"Fuck! To anna! To anna tih riders!" I screamed as I realised I had barely a hundred riders with me as the rest were outside the circle or ravaging the enemy further away. **(Fuck! To me! To me my riders!)**

All that heard me converged on my position with the utmost haste to meet the enemy charge, I would have to break Jon Snow quickly to ensure the battle was over before I suffered too many losses.

It would take me a while to gather ten thousand more men already and I needed every man I could get to claim the Iron chair for my unborn son.

**JON SNOW POV**

As I rode down the hill time seemed to slow, I could see Khal Drogo screaming for something, and more of his men rushing to join him.

It wouldn't matter, even if he managed to get more men that the number in my arrowhead the force of my charge would break him.

The Dornish may claim to be Unbowed, Unbent and Unbroken but the Dothraki held no such claim.

Hoisting my spear up I stood as high in my stirrups as possible before lobbing it straight into the closest of Drogo's blood riders.

I bent back known urging my stallion on, drawing my falchion at the same time, and tightening my buckler.

Time returned to normal and I collided with a blood-soaked savage, driving my sword through his head, and pulling him from his saddle.

It became a job of hacking and cutting my way through the remaining Dothraki this side of the pits. So long as Ser Jonnel and the Dothraki kept the majority of the horde away they could win.

A slash to the neck, thrust into a chest and a decapitation and I was closer to my prey.

"**DROGO, COME AND FACE ME**," I shouted above the din of battle killing any enemy stupid enough to attack me.

As I made my way towards him, he noticed me, we locked eyes and made a sort of agreement.

"Away! Out of my fucking way!" I ordered my men, as he did the same until a gap appeared in the chaos allowing the two of us to meet in the middle.

We didn't talk or make any gesture of greeting except to throw ourselves at each other with everything we had.

My light armour allowed me to keep up with him as we exchanged blows atop our steeds, in the back of my mind as I dodged and parried his blows, I started formulating a plan.

It was a sign of immense weakness to fall off your horse in the Dothraki culture.

Countering his arakh with, my buckler I struck low, he moved his leg instinctively to dodge the blow, but I hit what I was aiming for the small flat saddle he was sitting on.

The strap gave way easily, I regretfully cut into his beautiful stallion as well but in doing so, his legs firmly in his stirrups to allow him to balance while he fought, caused his saddle to do a hundred and eighty-degree turn.

The great and fearless Khal Drogo was riding his horse from underneath it.

Before I could finish him off his stallion rode away dragging him, until he fell out of the stirrups.

Silence appeared to have descended on the battlefield as Dothraki and sellsword alike watched the Horse lord commit a tremendous show of weakness in their culture.

The Dothraki were no longer fighting, all over the battlefield the message was being passed along that the Khal had been unsaddled, it was now a matter of leadership and honour. If Khal Drogo failed to kill me in single combat, he would be forever shamed in the eyes of his people and God.

Realising now what was occurring I dismounted quickly, discarding my falchion at the same time, and drawing one of the longswords strapped to my back.

It was heavier than my falchion, but it had a longer reach and produced more power.

My opponent had dusted himself off and looked livid, his arakh drawn he cut himself, by the way, all the Dothraki reacted so I assume it was a grievous insult.

I spat at the ground in front of him, cause why not?

Before I knew what was happening the Khal had launched himself at me aggressively swinging his sword.

I lunged to the side; his superior weight would have meant the death of me if I tried to stand my ground.

I was smaller and quicker, so I decided to move lightly, step to the side swing my sword, blocked. Drogo lashed out in retaliation with his foot, connecting with my chest and sending me falling to the ground, I thrust my foot into his lower left leg as I fell. He was unbalanced, obviously hadn't expected me to fight back. I scrambled to my feet as he stopped himself from falling.

"How does it feel to be so embarrassed by a fifteen-year-old? Must be irritating, maybe I'll fuck your wife after I kill you." I taunted, hoping he would at least understand some of it.

It became quite clear he did when he let out an unintelligible roar of anger and seemed to forget he was wearing no armour focusing entirely on offence.

It was trying to fight back against a sand tempest, very hard and becoming increasingly dangerous. He was gaining ground fast as he forced me back, towards the pit and gruesome death of my own making.

Not happening, I had fish to fry on another fucking continent, like I was going to die here. I just needed a way to win.

I was nowhere near as strong as the hulking Dothraki warrior, but if I did this correctly it shouldn't matter.

I pushed forward to attack or at least tried to; his increasingly more powerful blows were too strong for me to block.

I looked round to see the heel of my foot on the edge of the pit, and when I turned around, I was met by a savage kick to my chest.

I fell into the pit.

**Battlefield of Snow Hill**

Everyone watched the two warriors exchange blows; however, the much younger and weaker fighter was being pushed back quickly towards the pit.

Ser Jonnel was soaked in blood, all of his clothes ruined, and his armour in need of a good scrubbing as he watched the fight with concern.

Jon was skilled, almost impossibly so, but he was only fifteen and still growing, Khal Drogo was a full-grown man with masses of experience when it came to killing others.

Bhalar watched from the crest of the hill with a spyglass, waiting, he needed Jon to give the signal before he could descend from the hill with his five hundred fresh infantries. If he died before Bhalar could make it there would be a reckoning, the boy had freed him from a life of slavery, it had been nearly two decades since he had last seen his family. They were probably dead by now, and Bhalar refused to lose another member. Levir and Jon were his only friends still alive, the rest died from the arena.

With bated breath, he turned and signalled for everyone to ready themselves, if the foolish boy wouldn't ask for help, he would just have to ignore him.

Levir knew Jon would win, he always did, except for Ser Jonnel, but that as because he wasn't trying to kill him. Jon couldn't die, the gods loved him too much, he had freed over seventy thousand slaves from unfair captivity! But he was still human, and he would need help after he killed the savage.

So, he loosely knocked a new arrow to his bow, just in case.

The Greenwoods were still together, Arron was bleeding from a wound on his leg and was relying on his brothers Arthur and Arnolf to hold him up.

They liked the boy; he had done well by them and they would fight for him for the rest of their lives so long as he continued to do so.

Black Fist looked the worst out of everyone, he had been in the thick of the fighting and seen more blood and gore than anyone else.

He respected Jon Snow immensely for freeing him and his brothers, he would serve him for the rest of his life in honour of the life debt he owed the boy.

Jon went flying into the pit, towards certain death.

No one did anything as the Company of the Rose tried to understand what they had just seen.

Khal Drogo was laughing, cursing the boy in the afterlife as everyone watched on either in horror or resignation, it would take a while for the Dothraki to respect him again.

The victorious and disrespectful warrior walked over to the pit and after looking over the edge collapsed with a sword through his face.

"Told you we should have dug deeper pits!" Jon called out as he climbed over the dead Khal's body.

**JON SNOW POV**

Thank the non-existent fucking gods I noticed the pits were full now.

When I fell in the numerous bodies covered the stakes, the flesh cushioning his fall. The only bad thing about it had been the smell of corpses rotting in the sun. I could hear Khal Drogo's laughter as he thought he had won and after a few colourful curses, I heard his footsteps come closer, picking up my sword I wiped it on bodies trousers and gripped it with both hands.

He looked over the edge about to spit on me as I drove my sword through his face. Jumping up I pulled myself out of the pit, to be greeted by even more silence. I don't think anyone had actually caught up with what had happened yet. Drawing my sword from out of Drogo's face I wiped it on his trousers and smiled.

"Well, that was fun. Want to give up now?" I asked loudly.

Three Dothraki men drew their arakhs and ran at me. The first one died from an arrow to the head, courtesy of Levir. The second one swung clumsily, almost pathetically compared to the Khal I had just fought. I gutted him before pushing him into his companion, releasing my sword I drew the second one and lopped his head off. I advanced on the third one with a grin on my face after tugging my second sword out of the newest corpse. Spinning both of them I swung them at the same time aiming for his head and legs, feinting, and changing the direction of my blades into his abdomen. He coughed up some blood and keeled over.

"Anyone else?" I called out in challenge, really, really hoping the Khalasar would just give up. They had around half their number left and my men were bloodied, tired, injured, or dead.

Then Bhalar came marching down, the seven-foot two man never a more welcome sight.

"I thought you died." He said with a smile.

"Die? That's something other people do, not me." I replied with a mock arrogant tone. He was right though; I had come very close to dying today.

Fifteen thousand men drew their arakhs, I tensed in preparation, and then one by one they cut off their ponytails, short or long, many bells or few all of them placed the hair at my feet in defeat.

I looked on in disbelief, this had been my hope but the fact that it was actually happening. Maybe I was wrong to judge the gods so early.

The Old Gods were with me. They wanted me to return home to Westeros.

"Ser Jonnel! We won!" I shouted in delight.

"Aye lad, we have, now we need to tend to the injured." The old knight replied with a grin.

Nodding in response I called for everyone to bring their injured to the healer camps barely a mile away back towards the city where all the women were hiding.

"Bhalar find some horses for all five hundred of the reserve men, we are going to the Dothraki camp," I ordered.

We had fucking won!

**Dothraki Camp**

Daenerys was in labour, she had been since her water broke as Drogo, her sun, and stars, rode off to kill the bastard.

It had been four hours since she had been brought into the tent and told to push. Apparently, she was nearing the average time it took for babies to be delivered, her son's head had begun to poke out from her vagina. Encouraged by the sign of progress she pushed as hard as she could a light pop could be heard as her son's head appeared followed quickly by the rest of his body. Fatigued by the effort it had taken to birth her son she motioned for her son to be given to her by Doreah.

"Rhaego, in honour of Rhaegar your uncle, you will be as tall and handsome as your father. The Stallion who mounts the world." She whispered quietly.

Sleep claimed her soon after and she entered the dream world.

While she slept word spread quickly through the camp of the Khalasar surrendering to the enemy. Khal Drogo was dead by single combat. Beaten by a child.

That same child was approaching the camp with five hundred fresh warriors.

The women, children and the old gathered in front of the camp except for the still sleeping Khaleesi, her child and Doreah to look after her.

Jon rode forward with Bhalar and when everyone was gathered, he began speaking in Dothraki.

"Give me your Khaleesi and you will all go free. Fail to hand her over and I will be forced to kill ten of you every hour."

The gathered people did not seem surprised by his demand, probably used to it because of their culture. Whenever a Khalasar beat another Khalasar they took all the women and slaves for themselves.

An elderly woman came forward eager to please and get the process over with, "Khaleesi has disse given athyolar, anna is she the largest okre she the centre ki kishi camp." (Khaleesi has just given birth; she is in the largest tent in the centre of our camp.)

"Bhalar go! Be careful of any guards, take ten men and make sure she is there with her child. Bring me a handmaiden and the child." Jon ordered.

Bhalar nodded, gathering ten men they rode for the specified tent.

Dismounting the large man stepped into the tent and was greeted to the sight of a sleeping girl with a handmaiden holding a bundle sitting next to her.

"You must be one of Jon Snow's men. I'm Doreah. Daenerys talks about your leader a lot. She really dislikes him, although I reckon that doesn't matter now that he has killed Drogo." She rambled on.

"Why should I care?" The large man asked.

Doreah perked up at that,

"Well as a matter of self-preservation I thought it would be a good idea to come along willingly. Even if you want to kill the child." She replied truthfully.

"Very well, I have a horse waiting for you outside. Ten men will stay here to guard the girl." Bhalar decided.

The handmaiden followed obediently with the child in tow.

**Myr**

In the end, nearly three thousand men had died in the battle with the Dothraki. More than two-thirds of the losses occurring in the second battle.

In ratio that meant the Company of the rose had lost three men to every twenty-five losses, the Dothraki had suffered.

Very impressive if you asked Jon.

The city of Myr had been smart enough to open its gates when it learned of the defeat of Khal Drogo by the Company of the Rose.

Myr had officially hired the company with monthly salaries for everyone, and Jon had finally been introduced to the exiled Northern Houses.

Harrion and Eddard Ryder of House Ryder, the former lords of the Rills, a region now under the control of Ser Jonnel's family, House Ryswell, were by far Jon's favourites. They were seventeen and sixteen respectively and well educated, could fight well, and were friendly.

Houses Amber, Fisher, Ryder, Woodfoot, Ashwood and Forrester.

Technically House Forrester wasn't in exile, they were just a line descended from a member of the house who was.

Between them, they had an army of a thousand men, nothing an amazing but a substantial force. They were also the biggest provider of recruits for the Company or at least had been.

With only three thousand five hundred men left Jon had a considerably smaller force, however in the context of things he had forty thousand fewer enemies.

"I need a bigger army." He muttered as he waited on a balcony in his temporary accommodations.

"Indeed, young Snow, but fear not, your new reputation will serve you well in that regard." Magister Andaren spoke up from behind him.

Turning around Jon brought his guard up,

"Magister Baerley, it is an honour to meet you again, how can I be of assistance?" He asked cautiously.

"I believe it is I who will be helping you. Already my influence grows as it becomes known that I am your patron. I thought you might like to know that according to reliable sources the Brave Companions are in the city under the command of Prince Oberyns bastard daughters. They plan to kill you."

Jon registered the man's words with a smile,

"To a new year! Let it be better than the last one."

**I know four hours is nowhere near the correct amount of time for labour in pregnancy but I needed it to fit in with the battle and according to the internet the reason it takes so long is the fact that women have children later in life. Not that there is anything wrong with that, just that labour periods would be shorter if they were younger. Daenerys is fifteen, I reckon that's young enough. I suppose I'll answer any questions you have unless they are about dragon eggs, I remember those, I do know what I'm going to do with them. I reckon the next chapter will be reactions to Jon's victory, and the beginning of the main plot, something that has been moved back a year by Ned Stark being cynical and not trusting his wife to keep her temper in check. What do we think of me using POV? Is it bad? Is it good? should I scrap it? Should I keep it? Also, I know, I know I killed Ser Jorah. He just doesn't interest me.**


	6. The North

**299 AC**

**Myr**

It was late at night, men and women were slumbering in the brothels after hours of entertainment and feasting on flesh. Of the many inhabitants in the pleasure district, it was the three Dornish women that were noticed the most. Their men were rowdy, vulgar, and rude. It was not a secret that they were in the city looking for someone.

If the bastard women of Dorne had been a little smarter and more secretive perhaps they would have noticed how the slave girls snuck out of the beds they were sharing with the Brave Companions and opened the locked doors allowing Unsullied soldiers in.

In the darkness of a single night, a thousand men were slaughtered in their sleep as they lay unsuspectingly.

Obara, Tyene and Nymeria were woken up with an uncomfortable jolt, swords, and spears at their necks, bound by rope and carried off into the streets of Myr.

One man survived, the kind who never died, like a cockroach he slunk off into the closest alleyway content with his life.

**King's Landing**

As Jaime watched the fire burn, he couldn't help but reflect on his life and what it could have been if not for his infatuation with Cersei.

He would never have joined the Kingsguard, he would still be heir to Casterly Rock, free to make his own decisions and make his father proud. Tyrion would have it easier and perhaps the two of them could have gone to Essos together. He hadn't told Cersei yet, but he had talked to Robert and the man had agreed to free him from the Kingsguard once the year was up. As soon as the King returned, he would have his life back and his sister would be furious and try to persuade him, but Jaime planned to already be riding for Casterly Rock by the time she found out.

With Flea bottom burning and the twenty thousand inhabitants that hadn't fled on their way to the North most of the crime would disappear, at least for a while. He would reassure his father and then set off for Essos to join his brother.

Fuck the Seven Kingdoms for a while, he had a life to live.

Lord Beric Dondarrion shouted his orders as he maintained a calm facade. The fire was unlikely to spread as they had torn down the houses connecting Flea bottom to the rest of the city and the wind was weak.

Personally, the Commander of the City watch thought that they should have conscripted the members of Flea Bottom to help rebuild and make drains. That was the one thing the Queen insisted on. Drains were a must, and everyone agreed. The City could not be allowed to smell like shit.

Lord Stannis watched Jaime closely, he knew from Robert that the man was leaving Kings Landing and wasn't sure what to do. He needed the man to admit that Joffrey and Tommen were his children before he left, which meant he would have to plan for the very moment Robert returned. He had managed to convince his brother to leave the Lannister twin behind. Stannis would have him arrested just before Robert returned.

**Storm's End**

Robert heaved and huffed as he dragged the tree trunk across the yard. His fat was gone, a warrior's body remained. His instincts were renewed after daily spars with Ser Barristan and Ser Balon. Ser Boros was no longer with them. As a Kingsguard, his career had come to an end. Ser Balon had killed him after challenging him for his place in the prestigious order. Robert could now don his armour as if it was light silk.

That very afternoon he planned to go out bandit killing, a new favourite sport of his. He would stay at his ancestral home for a while longer, to enjoy the peace and quiet. Maybe he could father another bastard or two. Perhaps he could chat with the one he already had, Edric who was being fostered by Renly.

**Myr**

Daenerys awoke in a luxurious bed, confused and failing to remember how she got there. She was suddenly reminded of her child and looked around frantically, Rhaego was missing!

"He is safe, for now." Came a calm voice with a slight northern accent.

"Jon Snow!" She spat at him as if his very name was an insult.

"Daenerys the Beggar Queen. Not much of a queen anymore either. What do you have left? Your husband and his Khalasar are dead, your titles mean nothing, and I have your son." Jon replied with a grin.

"I'll burn you alive if you don't give me back my son!" She threatened.

Jon burst out laughing, it was such a pathetic threat he didn't even need to give it thought.

"You belong to me now Daenerys. So does your son. I'll raise him well; he'll live a normal life never knowing what terrible parents he had." Jon told her.

"I'll fucking murder you in your sleep if you try anything with me." She screamed.

"Perhaps you would, but I have your son, although to tell you the truth I don't think I will be joining you in bed. You whine and scream too much." Jon said referencing how loud she was when she slept with Drogo.

Daenerys lept out of the bed fingers aimed for his eyes when he caught both wrists and threw her back onto the bed.

"I suggest you don't try that again unless you don't care about your child. I wonder what I'll call him. Nothing Targaryen. Nor Dothraki. Lysandro perhaps, after an old friend." Jon mused.

"His name is Rhaego! and don't you dare fucking change it." Daenerys shouted sounding more and more childish by the second.

Ignoring her Jon turned around and opened the door to her room,

"I suggest you be more obedient and polite for your sake as well as your son's. I'll be gone for a while, if you try to escape, I'll give you a taste of what your father was like," he warned before pulling the door shut behind him and motioning for the Unsullied to guard the door.

He knew it was hypocritical keeping a slave when he hated slavery but there was always an exception to every rule. Daenerys annoyed him immensely and he wanted her to understand his pain. He would keep his word and have her child raised well by a rich merchant family in Myr. He had already requested something of Magister Baerley for Daenerys and would come back to see the results in a few months' time.

He was almost tempted to re-enact what had happened in the throne room in Kings Landing, have her put in a noose which she would struggle against as she tried to save her son from burning.

Perhaps if she did misbehave.

For now, he had three other bitches to deal with. He was borrowing his patron's manse with Daenerys in one room and his newest prisoners in the dungeon.

"Tyene, Nymeria and Obara I believe. According to your cousin Arianne there was a chance I would find you in Myr. I received her letter a while ago. Apparently, you are quite predictable." Jon laughed as he watched them from outside their cage.

"Bitch." Spat Obara cursing the fact they had ignored Ser Cletus and his companion.

"I have to concur, she does seem the type, but from what I've learnt she's quite attractive. Perhaps I'll take her as my mistress. You as well maybe." Jon joked.

Nymeria looked up with a defeated look in her eyes, she was the smartest out of the three of them.

"What now? Will you execute us? Rape us?" She asked solemnly.

Jon shook his head,

"I think not, perhaps I'll have the chance to sleep with all three of you later but first I plan to return you to your father. I don't need any more enemies after just having to kill an entire Khalasar." Jon inwardly fought the blood rushing down to his lower regions at the thought of sleeping with even one of these women. He needed to lose his virginity before he could feel comfortable making these jokes.

Jon had plans, unresolved grudges, and a desire to return North.

**Deepwood Motte**

It was a new year and the walls of Deepwood were busy as every able handed boy and man set about restoring and improving the defences of the castle. Lord Robbert Glover had been shown a Wight by a man of the Night's Watch. It had inspired the fear of the gods into him and already resources to help rebuild the wall were being sent northwards. Reassured by all the activity and having met and enjoyed the hospitality of the Glover Lord Robb and his retinue were setting off towards Torren's Square to continue his tour of the North and all that it held.

Robb planned to except challenges in duels at every fort and castle he visited to try and broaden his horizons.

**King's Landing**

Cersei was sure of it; Stannis knew about her and Jaime. Her beautiful children were in danger. Robert would kill all of them without hesitation if her proud lion's heritage came to light. Stannis had to die, better yet Robert and Stannis would die. She would have Lancel poison her husband's cup and when Joffrey was crowned, he could have Stannis executed. She needed to send a raven immediately to one of her spies in Storm's End to inform her dim-witted cousin. Lysa Arryn would take the blame, she was already a well-known lunatic and it would seem like revenge for the loss of her son to the Royce family.

**Highgarden**

Olenna sat in her Solar contemplating the state of the Seven kingdoms. There had been a rather quick succession of Hands to the King recently with Jon Arryn dying followed by Ned Stark quitting and Stannis taking up the mantle. In a short year, the entire power balance of Westeros had been thrown off. The King was no longer in debt. King's Landing was no longer as much of a shithole. Several small council members had changed. The North was rebuilding itself, albeit slowly. Lannister influence in the capital was at an all-time low in the past fifteen years. Alliances were being made. The fat king was no longer fat. If the rumours were to be believed he was, in fact, the Demon of the Trident again, a terrifying thought. All of these people were growing powerful again while the only Tyrell in current events was her grandson Garlan who was now second in command of the City Watch. There was no betrothal between her granddaughter and any king or future king, and her son continued to stir up a rebellion against himself by insulting their vassals. It was nothing short of frustrating. Renly was as useless as usual, forget helping them increase their influence all he did was stay away from the capital losing all his power as Master of Laws and frolicking with Loras.

She needed a plan, and if she wanted a good deal, she would need powerful alliances.

**King's Landing**

Varys, Master of Whisperers, Targaryen loyalist and eunuch knew it was time to act, the Queen planned to kill the King as soon as he returned while Stannis was going to tell Robert about the true parentage of the royal bastards. He was aiming for a country at war and the best way to do that was to let the realm know about the parentage of the heir to the throne and allow the Lannister's to kill Robert the Usurper.

For that to work a few key things needed to change in the capitol. Problems needed to disappear.

**Myr **

"We'll see you in a few months!" Ser Jonnel called out to Jon as the group on horseback set off for Lys were, they would catch a ship to Sunspear.

The group consisted of Jon, Levir, Bhalar, all four Greenwood men and the Ryder brothers along with twenty Unsullied. They were bringing the three bastards of Oberon as prisoners. An excuse to meet with Arianne.

Two weeks of hard riding through the disputed lands passed without event, their group too small to garner attention and they quickly crossed to Lys via ferry.

The city was as shameless as Jon remembered and he had already decided to stay as short a time as possible in the city of sin. Standing alone in his room he spread out his map of Westeros and Essos. He had put off returning to the North for long enough, it was time for him to return and he would as soon as he was done with the Martells who were clearly colluding with the Targaryen's.

He would be sixteen when he next saw his father, eight years since he had been smuggled out of Winterfell and sold into slavery by the bitch that was his stepmother.

Jon's biggest problem was he wasn't sure how best to ruin her life without harming his own family. If she was still the same, then her biggest weakness was her family. Problem was her family was his family.

Except the Tully's who he had no blood relations too. Perhaps he would take a detour to Riverrun before he arrived in the North.

He wondered what Robb looked like now after so long, would they still get along? He hoped so but was doubtful as he planned on at the very least torturing his brother's mother.

**Storm's End**

Robert liked Edric, more than his trueborn son if he was honest. The two brothers couldn't have been more different. Edric liked using a Warhammer and had been very interested when they had started sparring whereas Joffrey avoided any physical exertion like the plague. Edric looked like Robert whereas Joffrey looked like the lions Robert had come to hate. Edric was boisterous and fun while Joffrey was cruel and boring. So, Robert had made his decision, while Joffrey was heir, he couldn't refrain from acknowledging the son he was so proud of. The boy's mother was a noble so nobody would be able to disagree.

Robert had given Edric the Baratheon name, now he was Prince Edric Baratheon of Storm's End, heir to the Lordship of Storm's End. Robert had come to face the facts when it came to Renly, the man was never going to have a serious relationship so Edric could take his mantle when he died. He had already informed his son in front of the entire population of the old fortress, letters were already flying to every corner of the realm to deliver the news. Robert had a new mission, to find all his bastards and give them proper homes. His daughter Mya was safe in the vale, but he knew that he had not exactly been a loyal husband, for all he knew the entire realm was populated with his children.

A letter was on its way to Stannis with orders to have the Gold cloaks find all of his bastards with the help of the spider and bring them to Storm's End. He would abdicate in favour of looking after his children, he could finally spend more time with Ned in the North or go to Essos. This deserved a toast! "Lancel you fucker! Bring me the wine! I'll have a jug and nothing more. Find Ser Barristan for me!"

As the aged Kingsguard joined him in his chambers Robert smiled happily motioning for his squire to pour them both a glass.

"Ser Barristan you have been a good and loyal friend to me over these past sixteen years. I hope you will look after my children when I abdicate." Robert toasted solemnly before downing his drink.

"Sire! You plan to give up the throne! Then Joffrey is to be king." Barristan dropped his cup in shock.

"Aye, he'll need all the help he can get as well!" Robert laughed, suddenly he started coughing violently foaming at the mouth as he fell out of the chair and collapsed on the floor.

"Sire! Servant! Call the guards! The King has been poisoned!" The old knight roared into the night as the castle lit up in a flurry of activity.

Lancel Lannister took his chance and fled into the darkness atop a steed headed for the Capitol.

A body was delivered to the Storm's End catacombs, nobody questioned the King's decision to be buried at his ancestral home without a procession, it was the kind of king he was.

The King was dead.

**King's Landing**

Stannis was working hard in his office in the Tower of the Hand late at night. He had received a raven earlier that morning with orders from his brother to have all his bastards found and sent to Storm's End. Not to mention the fact that he legalized his bastard with the Florent girl. This was good, a boy of noble birth, one who was actually a child of Robert. When Cersei was dealt with along with her spawn there would be an heir to the throne. All he needed to do now was wait for his brother to return and they could deal out the King's Justice.

Sitting up he cocked his head slightly; he could have sworn he heard a noise. "The Lannister's send their regards."

Darkness was all he knew.

**Sunspear**

**Dorne**

The ship pulled into the harbour in the early morning, Jon felt nostalgic, it was an unrealistic feeling as he had never been in Dorne before, but it was the thought that counted.

The city was quiet, and the band of mercenaries easily slipped past the gates and found lodging. The Sand Snakes had been covered and disguised, in case anyone recognised them.

"Princess Arianne Martell has sent word that she will meet us outside the city, four miles from the gates in a small village called Smokey town.

We'll bring you with us and hand you over as a sign of good faith, I'll listen to what your cousin has to say and then you will be off to the water gardens again to give an account of your failure ." Jon explained to the three women.

Two days later, in the town centre of a recently abandoned village, four men in light armour and a dark-skinned young woman in a very revealing dress waited patiently.

"Spectacular heat you have here in Dorne, although compared to you this doesn't qualify as hot," Jon called out as he rode into the open area followed by the Unsullied, the Greenwoods, Ryders and his two friends. The Sand snakes followed soon after, still bound and gagged but each with a horse of their own.

"Jon Snow I presume; I do try not to make the Sun jealous." She replied with a grin.

"Your cousins, your highness," Jon replied, slightly put off guard by her willingness to reply to his taunts.

The three women rode towards the Dornish knights who untied and ungagged them.

"Kill the fucker!" Obara roared the moment the gag was gone.

Jon, Arianne, everyone else including her sisters all turned to look at her in disbelief.

"Are you insane your crazy bitch? He outnumbers us five to one and you don't even have weapons!" One of the knights hissed.

The bastard daughters of Dorne were not recognised officially as Princesses yet were still respected because of their father, but the sheer stupidity of the girl had caused the closest knight to lose his patience.

"Never mind, Ser Cletus, Ser Aaron bring the chest from the hut."

The two men dismounted and ran quickly to the closest building before dragging out a chest as large as Jon's chest.

"What is this?" Levir asked.

"Their ransom, my uncle is rather fond of them, not that he knows about this, yet," Arianne explained.

"How much is this exactly?" Levir said as he opened up the chest.

"30,000 Gold Dragons,"

Jon schooled his features into a neutral expression quickly before accepting the chest with a nod and motioning for two Unsullied to pick it up and secure it for transport.

The three bastard daughters of Oberon were led away by the third Dornish knight while Arianne revealed her true reason for contacting him.

"I wish to hire you, I know you have influence and an army,"

"What could the Princess and future ruler of Dorne need with my army?" Jon asked.

"My father is planning to replace me with my younger brother, he plans to ignore my right to rule, I will need help to secure it. I have supporters but Quentyn is more popular with the traditional Lords who see women as inferior." Arianne explained.

"Why should I help you? I have more to lose than you do, as a Princess, you wouldn't be blamed." Jon inquired, eager for a reward.

The Dornish Princess's face gained a sultry look as she replied,

"I can think of a thing or two that might convince you, and the Company of the Rose would have my full support."

"A promising offer, one I dare not refuse. We will talk more on this when I return, for now, I wish to be reunited with my family." Jon declared.

Arianne realised that was the best she was going to get and wished him well as he rode on towards the nearest port.

The voyage ahead of him would one of the longest in his life so far, they would hire a ship to Gull town and from there a direct ship to White Harbour.

The two ports had been receiving a lot of business recently due to the massive influx of hundreds of thousands of small folk being forcefully migrated.

The Company of the Rose had deep connections with the North and had been keeping a close eye on everything happening in their distant homeland.

**The Water Gardens**

Prince Oberon was as usual furious, the northern bastard had escaped with his life and killed nearly all of his old mercenary company.

Not to mention the ludicrously high ransom Arianne claimed she had been forced to pay.

He wanted to take up arms and kill Snow while he was still in Dorne.

However, all further thoughts were pushed out of his head and everyone else's when news of the King's death arrived.

The raven's message told of how Lady Lysa Arryn of the Vale had been so maddened by the requisitioning of her son by order of the king that she had become treasonous and had her remaining followers poison the king's wine. The Hand of the King was also killed, Stannis Baratheon, it was assumed Lysa was not made aware of the change in Hand and gave orders for him to be killed as Lord Eddard Stark was the first to give the order while he reigned as Hand. Lord Renly has decided to retire from city life for the foreseeable future to grieve in his ancestral home of Storm's End. His Highness Joffrey Baratheon is to be crowned and has made it known his first decision will be to appoint his grandfather Tywin Lannister as commander of the forces sent to apprehend the traitor.

All Lords of note are required to come and swear allegiance within two months of his coronation.

Doran had expressed his doubts about the true killers, but he had no evidence and was limited in what he could do.

**King's Landing **

It was the day before Joffrey's coronation, Jaime had not changed his mind about leaving if anything it had strengthened his resolve, his children didn't need him around now, they were all grown up.

Tywin Lannister had arrived barely days after the King had died, taking command of all the troops in the city he had enforced order with an iron fist.

He currently took residence in the tower of the Hand. So, with a resolute determination Ser Jaime Lannister, the kingslayer, climbed the steps to his father's office. Technically Robert had already signed the decree declaring his honourable release from the King's guard, but with the King now gone Tywin held the most power in the realm.

"Father, may I come in?"

Jaime could practically feel the motion from behind the door as he opened it slowly and walked inside.

"What do you want Jaime." It wasn't really a question; the old lion was probably already thinking of ways to deny whatever he asked.

"I came to show you something, the last gift from King Robert if you will,"

The Kingsguard handed over the signed decree with a slight tremble.

He watched his father's face closely as the man's sharp eyes read the instructions and lit up.

"He freed you," the statement sounded shocking surprised when you considered who it came from.

"Indeed, I am now the heir to Casterly Rock again. It's only been sixteen years or so." Jaime replied with a fake laugh.

"This is wonderful! The dwarf is no longer set to inherit my legacy! You'll head back straight after the coronation." Tywin decided.

"No, I'm sick of staying in the same place. I've decided to join Tyrion in Essos for a couple of years, after which I will dedicate myself with a passion to whatever schemes you concoct." Jaime said quietly but firmly.

Tywin wanted to argue and would have if not for the fact Cersei burst in with vigour.

"Father, Jaime whatever are you talking about?" She didn't wait for a reply and continued,

"I want the actual coronation to be quick before anyone starts arguing overtaking more time, the quicker Joffrey is King the sooner we can take back all the power we lost in King's Landing."

This was followed by a barrage of demands, questions and decisions made with very little input from either of the two men until she left again.

Jaime followed soon after, eager to get away from his almost certainly disappointed father.

"Jaime, it's been so long since we were together! Why don't you come back to my room? With Robert gone, there is nothing to stand between us." Cersei appeared from behind a pillar and whispered into his ear.

Jaime squashed all feelings of affection for his sister and replied coldly,

"You want to sleep with your brother, the day before your son is to be crowned, possibly bringing about question to his true parentage?"

He didn't bother waiting for an answer and left, he needed to pack his few meagre belongings.

**Winterfell**

Lord Eddard Stark sat in the Godswood sharpening his broadsword, Ice when Catelyn found him. She held two messages, the first was only four words, but it was the one with most effect.

'The King is dead!'

The second message was identical to the one received by the Martells in water gardens.

Several emotions welled up inside of the normally stoic Lord of the North, none were expressed for a moment before tears started to fall from his eyes.

"We parted not as brothers but as distant friends, I will regret that for the rest of my life. Your sister has gone too far this time." He whispered, just loud enough for Catelyn to hear.

"Ned! It can't have been her, Lysa would never do such a thing! It must have been the Lannister's! Just like when they killed Jon Arryn." Lady Stark declared.

"You didn't hear the reports Cat, she reportedly had people thrown out of a trap door in the floor nearly every day! When I had Robyn take up his fostering with the Royce's it took a damn near siege to collect the boy! I'm starting to wonder if maybe she was the one to kill Jon as well, after all, she is the one who blamed the Lannister's." Ned replied wearily.

"No Ned! You don't understand!" Cat disagreed vehemently.

"**DON'T UNDERSTAND**! What don't I understand, the fact that she was damn near killing her son, the fact she commits murder every day or the **FACT SHE KILLED MY BROTHER**!" Ned roared.

"**SO, WHAT IF SHE DID! YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TAKEN HER BABY**!" Cat shouted back.

"Careful Cat! That's treason you're talking." Ned suddenly turned dangerously quiet.

She didn't reply and instead stormed out of the Godswood, she didn't care what her family did, they just needed to be safe. Eddard Stark was slowly losing his place in her family. Family, Duty, Honour, she defined all of her family's words. The Targaryen's were famous for being insane, but that didn't mean it was exclusive to them.

**Wolfswood**

Arya Stark was what you would call a free soul. Syrio Florel saw a lot of himself in her and delighted in teaching her the intricacies of the Water Dance. He encouraged adventure and exploring, so along with Mycah the butcher's boy, someone who had narrowly avoided being killed by the Hound, she had headed deep into the Wolfswood in search of adventure.

Unlike most young girls of the tender age of ten years old, she had found herself lost in a forest of dark trees with only a ginger butcher's boy.

If anyone had seen them, they would not have guessed her to be a Lady of Winterfell.

Rustling sounds surrounded the two, appearing to get closer until a wolf roughly the size of Arya appeared.

They both looked at each other and made to run for it when the wolf in question bowed its head to Arya and rolled over, tongue hanging out.

"Is that what a wolf is meant to do?" Mycah asked.

Arya hit him up the side of his head in response and moved closer to the wolf. She had played with the hounds at Winterfell and knew how to please them, so applying that knowledge she began rubbing the wild beast's belly. It began to emit almost cat-like noises of pleasure and its tail began to wag.

"You can live with me from now on! I'll call you Nymeria, after the warrior queen because you look fierce." Arya decided.

**Skagos**

The population of the originally sparsely populated islands had sextupled since the last ships from Hardhome had arrived.

The giants had started building everyone houses and true to their nature the free folk were adapting to life south of the wall quickly. They were already incorporating the southron methods of building into their architecture and the majority of the hundred thousand spear wives, children and warriors looked like they wanted to stay.

Mance Rayder wasn't satisfied, but that was because he was a paranoid son of a bitch. He wanted to keep moving south while others like Tormund argued that with the bloody crows and their big wall separating them the White walkers were a threat of the past.

He planned to bring Dalla and their unborn child south to safety and his best idea at the moment was to form a mercenary company. What else could savages do? He was happy to let everyone stay on Skagos because he knew he would be able to find a few thousand hot-blooded young men and spear wives to come to Essos with him.

Tormund was to take over leadership, he would become the King of Skagos instead of King-beyond-the-wall and Mance would leave.

There were enough ships for maybe five thousand people to join him.

Of the one hundred thousand people who had come from beyond the wall thirty thousand had been willing to follow him even further south.

He had eliminated something close to ten thousand just because they were too young or old. He had picked five hundred men he trusted and told them all to pick nine other men or women they trusted. He was left with approximately five thousand battle-ready men and women with no baggage or family members who would miss them.

The ships built by the surviving ship rights on Skagos could hold at least four hundred men each. They had built twelve. It was an incredible feat and the ships were enormous, with two decks and two hundred pairs of oars. It had taken close to three months before the wildlings had learned to row in time to the drum on each deck, another month before they had found enough provisions to fill the ships, liberal amounts of gold had been liberated from the previous Lords Stane, Crowl and Magnar to buy further rations with and then another couple of weeks to ensure everything was really prepared. The Northernmost realm of the Seven kingdoms hadn't noticed anything odd because even though the Lords of Skagos paid homage they never had contact with the Starks, Umbers or Karstarks.

It was finally time to set off.

**Castle Black**

"Commander Mormont! Benjen Stark has returned!" Samwell Tarley ran as fast as his stubby legs would carry him as he shouted his message for Jeor Mormont.

"What!" Standing immediately, the commander of the Night's Watch rand for the gate to greet his friend.

The figure that rode through was blue and looked half dead atop his horse, however, his eyes remained grey.

"Get him to the infirmary! Now!" Barked Ser Allister Thorne.

'Maybe now we'll learn what's happening north of the wall if he lives that is.' Jeor thought pensively.

**Lys**

Begging didn't get you far in Lys. Rhaenys had very little money left after her escape from Volantis, but she still needed to get to Sunspear, where her family was.

People in Lys expected you to offer your body in exchange for money, that was how it worked, and Rhaenys was attractive. Incredibly so in fact. She had been forced to run from several Lyseni nobles who had wanted to keep her as a concubine.

As she begged with her face and body covered a woman dressed in red approached her. Rhaenys ignored her until the woman was right in front of her.

"Please, money, please." She begged.

"My dear Princess it hurts me and the Lord of Light to see you like this, I have come to offer you salvation." Melisandre declared.

Rhaenys tried to run when she realised a red priestess of Volantis knew who she was.

She was blocked when the surprisingly strong redhead embraced her in a hug.

"Forget your sorrows, wife of Azor Azai, for you shall be reunited with your family soon enough."

**White Harbour**

As the ship docked seven men's breath hitched, the Greenwood's, Ryder's and Jon had to give themselves time to adjust to their surroundings.

Jon Snow had returned to the North, he had left a boy of eight and returned a battle-hardened man of sixteen.

**Finished! The chapter, obviously not the story.**

**Imma write a new chapter for TDPS then I'll decide what's next.**

**All rights belong to whoever owns this stuff (G.R.R Martin I guess)**

**Also, my reasoning for Arya being able to get away with a wolf is cause Ned gonna be in King's Landing and Catelyn don't pay much attention to Arya cause she angry with Ned.**


End file.
